Green Acres
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: After escaping Negan, Daryl forms a new alliance that brings hope to Alexandria and healing to Maggie and Sasha. Canon through 7.4, then AU. Daryl-centric with an ensemble cast. Eventual Caryl. Suspense, Action, Drama, Friendship, Angst, and Romance.
1. Chapter 1

Negan's infuriating, smug whistle sounded outside Daryl's cell door. He blinked himself awake to the sound and dragged himself into a sitting position just in time to shield his eyes from the sudden light as the cell door creaked open.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Negan called with that crooked grin that was becoming all too familiar. "Time to show off my pet at the ranch."

Daryl had no idea what the hell the man was talking about, but he didn't ask either. Daryl never responded to Negan. If he thought it would shorten the man's torturous monologues, he might, but he had no hope of that.

Daryl was soon shackled with his hands behind his back and thrown into a van. The van bobbed up and down over potholes and probably over dead bodies too. There were no windows in the back, of course. The Saviors never wanted Daryl to know where they were going, but he tried to get some sense of direction from the sun seeping through the window and over the seats in the front of the van. He judged the speed and counted the distance. Alexandria, he had figured, was only about six miles east of the Sanctuary, but they seemed to be going much farther today.

Daryl had tried to communicate the Sanctuary's location to Rick the other day, but Negan had told Rick to stop looking at him, so he'd given up the useless blinking. Besides, it didn't seem like Rick had any fight left in him. He'd let Negan take all of the guns. _All_ of them. They'd had five days before Negan arrived. Daryl didn't understand why Rick hadn't changed the inventory to reflect only half the guns and buried the rest in the graves.

Then again, maybe Rick was right to play the humble servant. Daryl's instinct to fight back had gotten Glenn killed. That man's blood was on his hands. The Saviors outnumbered the Hilltop and Alexandria combined, and they had large stashes of weapons, including RPGs. If Alexandria had tried to ambush them, they would not have won without great losses, if at all. And there were women and children to think about. There was little Judith for Rick to think about.

That was why Rick was the leader, Daryl supposed, and not him. Daryl didn't know how to bow, and his stubbornness and hot-headedness got people killed. They'd only been captured because he was out looking for revenge in the first place, and Glenn had only been killed because Daryl couldn't stand the sound of a woman crying. Daryl didn't think. He felt. And when he felt, he acted. Carol had told him, after the collapse of the prison, when they were searching for Beth, that he'd become a man. But maybe he hadn't. Maybe he was still a kid. Because a man swallowed his pride when he had to. A man bent his knee when it meant saving a future generation.

Or did he? Because if he _did_ bend his knee, what was he saving them for but a life of servitude?

Daryl didn't know anymore. He couldn't tell wisdom from cowardice, anger from courage, endurance from stubbornness. Maybe every virtue was nothing but the flipside of some other vice. Maybe there was no right or wrong. Maybe there was just the difficult choice in the moment, which opened a pathway to another impossible choice. And then another. And another.

Daryl nodded off thinking about it. He hadn't wanted to. He wanted to stay awake to measure how far they were going, but he'd slept so little these past nights, with that damn song waking him up every few minutes. When the van thudded up and over something, he was jolted awake.

Negan grinned from the seat across from him. "You're not going to ask about the ranch?"

Daryl's lips tightened together.

"Beautiful community, but like yours, it was a little slow to bend at first. Led by a husband and wife couple. Unfortunately…." Negan bent his head back and forth "I had to take the woman by surprise when she and her teenage son and a few others were out scavenging for medicines." He made a tsking sound. "It was a shame that she made me beat that poor boy to death right before her eyes, but she's such a stubborn thing! A lot of spunk though, I'll give her that." He chuckled and pointed to Daryl. "Reminds me a bit of you in that regard, except she's a lot prettier." He put his hand back on the bench seat of the van. "So I'm going to have to recruit her, just like I'm recruiting you. I'm bringing you because I want to offer the obstinate lady a glimpse into her own future."

Daryl felt a queasiness in his stomach, and it had nothing to do with all the dog food he'd eaten. That food wasn't quite the torture Negan had imagined it to be. It wasn't as though Daryl had never eaten dog food before, when he was a kid, and felt near starving, and his mama hadn't shopped in two weeks, and there was nothing else in the cupboards. It didn't taste as bad as Negan probably thought it did. No, he felt nauseous at the thought of Negan doing to a woman what he'd done to him.

He also feared that Negan might do worse to her. Negan's brand of rape was psychological. He liked to pretend he wasn't raping the women he'd coerced into "marrying" him. He liked to pretend there was something vastly more moral about not using physical force to take them. But Daryl didn't think psychological pain was any better than physical pain. He'd rather have the blows than the music. He'd rather be slowly beaten to death than be responsible for Glenn's death.

Daryl drifted off to sleep again. He awoke when the van ground to a halt. A Savior seized his arm and dragged him out. Daryl stumbled to gain his footing, blinking against the sudden sunlight. Meanwhile, the Savior trained his gun on him and told him to stay still and shut up, as if Daryl ever talked.

Negan did his song and dance routine, running his baseball bat along the high iron bars of the gate to the ranch, whistling, and then saying, "Come out little piggy, come out!"

The words "Green Acres Ranch" were written in sweeping cursive black metal over the gate. "Isn't that cute?" Negan asked Daryl. "Like the old T.V. show."

"I actually think it's because the ranch uses green energy," one of the Saviors said, but he fell silent when Negan looked at him.

Daryl surveyed the iron fence. It was tall, at least as tall as two men, and seemed sturdy. Spikes lined the top of every vertical bar, and barbed wire had been wound from spike to spike. It wouldn't be a fun fence to scale. In the distance, between the bars, and beyond the acres and acres of farmland being grazed by horse, cattle, and goats, he saw the massive main house, three guest houses, and two barns. The inhabitants had also erected two rustic wooden watchtowers at the two front corners of the ranch. He was looking at the one on the right, some 1,000 yards away, when he thought he spied a flashing twinkle of light.

And then Negan's head snapped back.

Negan was grinning when it happened. He was still grinning when the blood began to drip down from his forehead and over his nose. He ran his fingertips over his face, as if he didn't know what had happened, and pulled his fingers away. His eyes fell on the dark red streaks that stained his flesh.

Negan's grin finally faded. The leader of the Saviors slumped to his knees and fell face down in the dirt.

The man holding a gun to Daryl's head fell next. The Saviors sent out an indiscriminate barrage of bullets in the direction of both watchtowers. Their rapid fire filled the air, completely drowning out the sound of the one-at-a-time, well-aimed, long-range shots from the two towers.

Frantic and terrified, the surviving Saviors took refuge behind the trucks, only to be shot from the forest behind them. One managed to get a truck started, but his tires were shot out. When he stupidly flung open the front door and began running down the dirt road, he was brought down.

Daryl, his hands still cuffed behind his back, turned in a slow circle to survey the scene as the dust literally settled, floating down in thin clouds to the earth all around him.

He stood solitary, still, and silent for what felt like five minutes, when he finally ventured to call, "Hello?"


	2. Chapter 2

The gate to Green Acres ranch creaked open and six armed men emerged. The one in the center, who stood about four inches taller than the others, held a light brown, wooden Winchester rifle with a long-range scope. He was lean and had a farmer's tan, as evidenced by the pale ring of skin that peeked out from beneath one of the sleeves of his rolled-up flannel shirt. A brown cowboy hat rested atop his head and black-and-green snakeskin cowboy boots adorned his feet. His massive, silver belt buckle was in the shape of the state of Texas. Three large dogs nipped at his heels. "Sniff 'em out, girls!" he ordered, in a deep drawl, and the dogs barked and ran, snouts to the earth.

The sound of thumping - like boots hitting the ground - and cracking twigs rose from the forest behind Daryl. He turned, and that was when he noticed, for the first time, the deer blind that was barely visible among the trees. The tip of the AR-15 emerged from the tree line first, followed by a camouflage-clad figure, too lithe to be a man. The figure pulled off her cap and shook out her long, strawberry blonde hair as she approached. Daryl didn't usually notice the color of people's eyes, but hers were a piercing green.

Daryl's eyes snapped away from hers and turned to the truck where one of the dogs had stopped and begun barking madly. All six of the armed men surrounded the vehicle. The man in the cowboy hat nodded to a man on the other side of the truck's back door. That man stepped cautiously forward, gun in one hand and the other arm outstretched, to unlatch the back of the truck. As the door rolled up, gunfire erupted from inside, but the two Saviors within the truck were quickly killed. The man who had opened the door looked down at the tail of his button-down shirt, where a bullet hole had torn through, and laughed with relief.

The dogs continued their work, sniffing around the rest of the trucks and then disappearing into the woods. Two men followed the dogs, while the other four opened up the rest of the trucks.

Daryl watched the woman walk casually between the scattered, dead bodies. If she found a Savior who was still groaning and gasping or clinging to life, or one who had been killed by something other than a head shot, she shot him again between the eyes. She rolled Negan over and ground the heel of her black combat boot slowly into his left eye socket. Then she lifted her leg and stomped down on his face. Next, she shouldered her rifle, bent down, and picked up his fallen baseball bat. She swung it back, and it trembled in the air for a moment before slamming down against Negan's face. She did it again. And again. And again. Daryl watched, never blinking, as the earth grew wet with blood. It reminded him of the time, so long ago, when Carol had taken the ax from his hands and driven it into Ed, over and over, except that this woman wasn't crying.

Eventually, she stopped. She threw the baseball bat with a smack and a clunk against one of the trucks, and then she cleaned off the heel of her boot by scraping it against the ground. A trail of blood rubbed off on the light brown earth.

Daryl's eyes darted downward when she caught him watching her. The woman strolled over to his side, where she looked him over curiously and silently. Feeling her gaze, Daryl raised his eyes hesitantly to hers. Over her shoulder, he saw the man in the cowboy hat jump out of one of the trucks he'd been investigating and call, "Think we got 'em all."

The woman turned. "Saw one slip into the forest."

"Dog's'll get 'em." The man strode forward, put an arm around her waist, and pulled her close before leaning down to kiss her. "Feel a little better now?"

"Wish it could have been slower," she answered as she pulled away from him. "Like he did to our boy. I didn't even get to _kill_ him. Who did?"

"That was me, darlin'."

" _Good_."

The man walked behind Daryl, touched his handcuffs with one finger, and then circled back in front. "What's your name?"

"Daryl. Ain't with 'em. I's their prisoner."

"You an adulterer?"

"What?"

The cowboy pointed to the letter A on Daryl's sweatshirt.

"Ain't even married."

"You don't have to be married," the cowboy replied. "You could have slept with another man's wife, and you'd still be an adulterer."

"Ain't slept with anyone's wife. Negan just makes all his prisoners wear a letter. Don't know why. Like a number I guess."

"Negan _made_ ," the man corrected him. "Negan is no more."

Daryl looked in the direction of Negan's body, where flies had already begun to buzz around his bloody, smashed-up face. "Yeah. I can see that."

"Where's your community?"

Daryl's lips closed tightly.

"Never mind," the cowboy said. "Don't blame you for not saying. You can't know if we're friends or foe, but we ain't shootin' you, so that oughtta tell you something." He shouldered his rifle. "My name's Grayson, but everyone here just calls me Tex. This is my wife Tammy."

Two ranch men emerged from the woods, each holding a living Savior by an arm. He was bleeding from the ankles where the dogs had probably bit him to bring him down. The canines followed, barking and jumping. Tex reached into his front shirt pocket and tossed them each a treat. A chocolate brown retriever ran up to him after devouring it, and Tex scratched the dog behind the ears while cooing, "Good girl, Dixie! That's my good girl!"

The men brought the Savior straight up to Tammy, who spit in his face. Then she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. The gates rolled open. The Savior was dragged inside as more men poured out and began driving in the trucks.

"Well, Daryl," Tammy said, "you look like shit. Let's get you a hot bath and a hot meal." She put a hand on the small of his back and pushed him gently toward the gates.


	3. Chapter 3

When they were through the gates, Daryl noticed the windmill towering in the far distance. The blades spun slowly. Solar panels lined the top of the ranch house, and there were irrigation ditches extending toward the horizon. As they neared the main house, Tex hollered, "All clear!"

Eight kids spilled out of the front door, clamored down the stairs of the porch, and ran to begin playing in a nearby field. Two of the boys tossed a football. Another pair played frisbee, and one of the girls started blowing bubbles. Daryl blinked twice, because he felt like he was dreaming. Men, women, and teenagers, dressed in overalls and other work clothes, streamed out of the main house and guest houses and headed toward the fields.

Daryl was ushered up the stairs, across the porch, and into the main house. Tammy, with her hands on his cuffs, urged him through a large, rustic kitchen with a picnic-bench like dinning table, a giant wood stove, and a deep sink. They passed through a formal dinning room. A locked gun cabinet lined one wall. There must have been a dozen rifles inside. The dining room opened onto a living room, where five old people sat, two playing checkers, two playing cards, and one reading. Blankets and pillows were piled in one of the corners, as though the room had been converted from night to day use.

"Howard, do you have something for this man's cuffs?" Tammy asked.

The old man who was reading put down his book and rose from his rocking chair. He lumbered over to an end table, rattled around inside a drawer, and pulled out a ring of picks and keys.

"Howard used to be a locksmith," Tammy explained. "He's got all sorts of tools."

Five minutes later, Daryl's cuffs were off. He rubbed his raw, red wrists.

Tammy led him down a long, rambling hallway next. They passed four bedrooms. He glanced in through one open door and saw, in addition to the original twin beds, three sleeping bags on the carpeted floor. When they entered the master bedroom at the end of the hall, they navigated around two air mattresses on the floor by the king-size bed and into the expansive master bathroom. There were double sinks, a vanity with a mirror and chair, a shower, and a large soaking tub.

"The shower doesn't work," Tammy said as she plugged the tub and turned on both faucets at full blast. "Be right back."

Daryl, feeling a bit disoriented, watched the water pour in. Steam rose from above the deep tub and curled in the air, slipping out the open crack in the partially opened window in the wall above. His stomach growled, and he felt suddenly hungrier, fouler, and more weary than he had in the cell. Maybe it was the sight of so much humanity that made him feel his own bitter condition more powerfully.

The tub was full, and Daryl had just turned off the faucets, when Tammy returned. She lay a folded towel on the counter next to the sink. She'd changed out of her army fatigues and bloody combat boots and now wore a jean skirt, a pink, button-down blouse, and a pair of brown cowgirl boots that rose almost to her knees. A thin but sturdy belt clung to her hips. On the left was holstered a handgun and two extra magazine pouches. On the right was a hunting knife. Negan was right. She _was_ pretty. Pretty and prepared. It was the prepared part Negan hadn't counted on.

"I've left you a clean pair of boxers and a shirt," Tammy said. "I'll have to get you some pants. What size are you?"

He told her and then asked, "What is this place?"

"This ranch was always off the grid. It was designed to be completely self-sufficient. My family came here all the way from Texas to find it. Grayson - Tex - " She smiled indulgently, as if she found her husband's nickname here amusing, "read about it years ago in some ranching publication he subscribed to. He thought it would be a good place to ride out an apocalypse. Our own ranch was overrun from all the undead stumbling up from Mexico and we had no power. We hoped the owner would take us in and let us help run it, but, when we got here, there were just a handful of the undead knocking around. We cleaned it out, secured the place, built more fence, and we've been taking in survivors ever since. We've got almost fifty now." Tammy nodded to the tub. "Get yourself cleaned up, and then I'll cut your hair."

"Don't need a haircut."

She laughed. "Yeah, sugar, you do." She reached around the back of his head and dug her hand in his hair. Instinctively, he jerked away from her touch. Her hand came out, two fingers pinched together. She opened the fingers and showed him the squished louse. "You're crawlin' with 'em. And we don't want 'em spreading around the ranch. They're a damn inconvenience. You're getting a buzz cut."

She left him alone to bathe.

Daryl wasn't much for soaking in tubs, and he didn't usually mind sweat or dirt, but even he had to admit it felt really good to ease naked into that warm vat of water. The rim of the tub was lined with all sorts of body washes. He sniffed the first one and winced. It was a putrid strawberry scent. The next was lilac. Then pear. Fuck it all. He didn't want to smell like a girl.

He settled at last on the Johnson baby wash as the least offensive of the line-up. He took the washcloth Tammy had left him, poured some on, and began to scrub. The clear water clouded with his own filth.

Daryl stared at his clean, left arm. He'd almost forgotten the color of his own skin. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to enjoy little things, like the scent of baby powder wafting from the soap, or the warmth of water, or the laughter of the children playing outside, which drifted in through the open crack in the window. Daryl slid down until his chin was almost in the water. He closed his eyes and then plunged the rest of the way under, letting the water envelope him, yielding to its gentle force, and wishing his mind could be washed as clean as his flesh.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl slung his now damp towel over the rim of the tub and pulled on the pair of black silk boxers Tammy had left him. Silk had never touched his ass before. It felt prissy. Strange. Wrong...and yet oddly comfortable.

A forest green canvas shirt awaited him on the counter. He left it open over his chest while he rolled up the long sleeves to the elbows. A few stray droplets of water wound their way down between his pectoral muscles and dipped into the waistband of the boxers. Daryl had just finished buttoning up the shirt when there was a knock on the door. A little self-conscious of his pant-less state, he muttered, "Come in."

Tammy entered holding a folded pair of pants on top of which was a black leather belt with an empty holster and a pair of thick white socks. She looked him over. She wasn't shy about it. "You got any wounds or anything that needs dressing?"

"I'm fine."

"So they just gave you that one black eye? Nothing else?"

"Nothin' that needs dressin'," he said.

"'Except you." She pressed the clothes into his hands. "We'll give you a handgun for the holster later."

Daryl was surprised by that. Everywhere he'd been a stranger so far – from Hershel's farm to Terminus to Alexandria – had asked him to _turn in_ his weapons. They didn't _issue_ them. "Yer givin' me a gun?"

"No one over the age of twelve walks around this place unarmed. Even when they're working in the field."

He wished Rick had adopted that attitude in Alexandria, although they'd never had that many easy-to-carry handguns, and he wasn't sure some of those people could be trusted not to shoot off their own feet.

"Now hurry up and get dressed," she told him.

Daryl waited for her to leave, but it didn't seem like she was planning to, so he finished dressing in front of her. The khaki cargo pants – which had lots of useful pockets – were loose. He held the waist in place as he cinched the belt and pushed the metal prong through the very last hole.

"Don't guess he fed you well," Tammy said.

Daryl pulled on the socks and slipped his feet back into the combat boots that Negan had let him wear only when he was parading him around. The cuffs of the pants fell to his heels, so he bent over to roll them up slightly. When he did, he couldn't help but catch sight of Tammy's shapely legs peeking out from beneath her jean skirt and then disappearing into the kind of footwear Merle had once called _fuck-me cowgirl boots_. He was startled to discover he could still notice something like that, after all he'd been through. A vision of Glenn's beaten head flashed through his mind, and he felt sick with himself for allowing the momentary, ordinary admiration.

When he stood straight again, Tammy pointed to the chair in front of the vanity. "Sit down so I can cut your hair."

Daryl submitted himself to the indignity. Tammy put her own hair up in a pony tail before she approached him, probably to keep the lice form jumping on it. She attacked his hair with a pick and a pair of scissors. She kept stopping to catch and squish live lice as she cut. She worked deftly and quickly, shoring his locks with the scissors before taking an electric razor to his head. Then she combed through what little of his hair was left to get out all the nits.

When she was done, and a pile of hair lay scattered on the tile floor, Daryl reached back and scratched his neck. He'd itched for days, but he hadn't thought about why. It was all just part of the general misery of life as Negan's prisoner.

"I'm going to put some cortisone on that," Tammy said. She opened a drawer and pulled out a tube. When he felt the cool cream followed by the soft, warm touch of her fingertips, he jerked forward.

"Do it myself," he said and grabbed the tube from her.

Tammy put a hand on her hip and met his eyes in the mirror. "I suppose after being Negan's prisoner, you're not used to a gentle touch."

He wasn't used to it _before_ being Negan's prisoner, either. Back on Hershel's farm, when Carol had planted that unexpected kiss just above the bandage on his head, his muscles had been sure she was leaning over to smack him.

Daryl rubbed the cream on the back of his neck while he looked in the mirror. He barely recognized himself. He'd had short hair once, when this all started, but not quite _this_ short. His hair looked like Merle's now, except that it was sandy brown instead of gray. He'd forgotten how light his hair was when you got down to the roots.

"Don't worry," Tammy assured him. "It'll grow back. But you look a lot better without that shaggy mane anyway. You've got nice eyes. No point in hidin 'em. Helps to be able to see what you're aiming at, too." She patted his shoulder, but removed her hand quickly, as though she'd suddenly recalled that he didn't like to be touched. "Now come with me. You need to have a chat with my husband. Help us make some plans."

Daryl rose from the chair. "Ya ain't killed 'em all."

"The lice?"

"The Saviors."

"We know that, sugar. That's _why_ we're making plans." She faced the open door and called, "Henrietta?"

A sixty-something woman shuffled in the bathroom with a gray broom and dustpan and began sweeping up the hair from the tile floor. As Daryl walked past her, he saw the Colt .22, nestled in the same apron that held a duster, spray bottle, and cleaning cloths.

At Green Acres, it seemed, even the maids had guns.


	5. Chapter 5

Tammy led Daryl out a side door onto the long, wrap-around porch. "It's easier if we go around outside," she explained. "That house is like a windy maze."

As they rounded the corner, Daryl's eyes wandered across the field to a small plot a few acres in the distance. Wedged in the ground, in front of a large, rough stone, was a wooden cross.

"That's where our boy Cash is buried." Tammy placed a hand on the porch rail. "He was just fourteen when Negan beat him to death."

Daryl continued to stare at the plot.

"You're amazed he could beat to death a kid that young."

"Nah," Daryl said. "I'm amazed y'all only got one grave. How long ya been here?"

"Almost two years. No one's died of natural causes yet."

"Or unnatural?" Daryl asked. "'Sides yer boy?"

"Why? How many have you lost?"

Daryl swallowed. Since it had all started? Too many to count. "Moved 'round a lot. Been with some of the same people since the start, but it ain't always been the same group. Lost dozens."

"But how many have y'all lost to the Saviors?"

He thought of that arrow in the eye of Denise. The bat cracking open Abraham's head. The photo of Glenn's brains, spilled on the ground, because of him. Maggie weeping. Maggie's grave back at Alexandria. How many of those kills belonged to the Saviors, and how many belonged to him?

"Never mind," Tammy said softly. "C'mon." She led him around the porch and back inside through another door. They headed down another wing of the rambling ranch house. Two men carrying rifles emerged from behind a door at the end of the hallway. One nodded to Tammy as they passed. "Headed out to the watchtower, Santiago?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "Tex is expecting you."

Tammy opened the door to a study and waved Daryl inside. He entered cautiously.

Three rifles were leaned up against one corner of the wall-to-wall bookcases. A dark brown leather couch stood on four high legs. Pillows, blankets, and two rolled-up sleeping bags were stored underneath it. There were two formal armchairs, and a plate of food sat on an end table next to one. Daryl's mouth watered at the sight of the thick slice of browned ham, the warm baked apples, and fresh green beans. There was even a glass of milk. Was that for him? God, he hoped it was.

Tex was standing in front of a large, black leather desk chair before a solid oak desk. The rancher's hand rested on his hip just above a brown leather holster that held a silver revolver. His cowboy hat was pushed back on his head to reveal a single, thick, curly lock of blonde hair. A map of Virginia, D.C., and Maryland lay open on the desk before him.

To the left of the desk stood a muscular, bald black man who reminded Daryl of a taller version of T-Dog. He wore camo pants and a white muscle t-shirt, and there was a black, semi-automatic handgun in a dark holster on his hip. He had three extra, loaded magazines clipped onto his belt, along with a large knife. On the other side of Tex was a white man with tight, curly, brown hair who wore a black flak vest and carried one handgun on his belt and a second in a holster around his ankle.

Tex motioned to the armchair next to the end table with the dinner plate. "Have a seat, Daryl. Help yourself to the grub."

Daryl sat down and scooped the plate into his lap. He began shoveling the food into his mouth with his hands. It tasted like heaven.

Tammy sat down in the chair opposite Daryl, crossed her legs at the knee, and chuckled. "There's silverware."

Daryl ignored that bit of information and finished off the meal with his hands. He did make use of the napkin, though, after returning the plate to the table and draining the glass of milk.

"Farm to table," Tex told him. "Everything's raised and grown right here. We have pigs, cattle, chickens, apple trees, plum trees, peach trees, tomatoes, green beans…you name it. And Negan wanted half." He sat down in the desk chair and rested a hand on each of the arms. "He already took the most precious thing he could. Our son. He wasn't getting one more drop."

"Y'all marine snipers or somethin'?" asked Daryl.

"Isaac is." Tex pointed to the black man standing to the left of his desk. "And Jackson - " He pointed to the white man on the right, "was on C.A.T."

"On what?" Daryl asked.

"The U.S. Secret Service's counter-assault tactical team," Tex answered.

Daryl shook his head. He had no idea what that was.

"We were the guys who rode around in the black van behind the President," Jackson explained. "We spent a lot of time training with guns. Theoretically...if the shit hit the fan..." He shrugged. "We'd jump out and kill everyone."

"So what y'all do when the shit _did_ hit the fan?" Daryl asked. "Non-theoretically?"

"We jumped out and killed everyone," Jackson answered. "Or, rather, every _thing_. Every one of those undead creatures we could manage to kill. Meanwhile, the President got driven off to some bunker."

"He still alive?" Daryl asked.

"I don't even know if he made it there. We were left behind to do our job. Santiago and I were the only ones on the team who made it out of D.C. alive."

"And y'all?" asked Daryl, looking from Tex to Tammy.

"Me?" Tex asked. "I'm just a rancher who's had to deal with a lot of wild animals, smugglers, and cattle rustlers in my time. I've learned to shoot well. And my lovely wife here…" He nodded toward Tammy, "is a bit of a hobbyist."

Tammy snorted. "What my husband _means_ to say," she clarified, "is that I was the 2007 Texas State Champion in long rifle. Not the women's champion. _The_ champion. Used the trophy to brain my first undead man."

"Should've been armed," Tex chided her affectionately.

"We have seven expert marksmen on this ranch," Tammy told Daryl. "We have another nineteen who are much better than average shots."

Jackson took a step forward and rested the fingertips of his left hand on Tex's desk. He looked at Daryl. "Right now, one of our men is interviewing that Savior we took alive."

"Interviewin'?" Daryl asked. "Ya hirin' Saviors?"

Tammy let out a short laugh.

"He means the Savior is being interrogated," Isaac explained. "In an _enhanced_ manner."

"But we don't know how much information we'll get out of him," Jackson continued. "But you've been their prisoner?"

"Yeah," Daryl answered. "Couple weeks."

"We killed twenty-two today and took one alive." Tex looked at Daryl earnestly. "None escaped. How many are back at their base? Do you know?"

Daryl opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter!" the rancher called.

Jackson took his fingertips off Tex's desk and put a hand on his hip as the door swung open and a man strolled inside.

The man wiped blood off his light brown knuckles with a cloth as he shut the door behind himself and leaned back against the brown wood. His dark eyes looked bored and sleepy.

"Did you get anything useful out of him, Malik?" Tammy asked.

Malik spoke with what Daryl assumed was an Arabic accent: "He is…how do you say it? A tough nut to crack."

"But you cracked him?" Tex asked hopefully.

Malik scratched his cheek. "I must apologize, Tex, but I inadvertently killed him."

"Goddamnit it, Malik!" Tammy stood up from her chair and strode toward him. "You said you knew what you were doing!"

Malik didn't flinch. He blinked his eyes lazily. "I did not say I obtained no information before doing so."

Tammy shook her head, but she returned to her seat.

Malik languidly dug dirt - or perhaps blood – out from beneath his fingernails.

Daryl made a note not to get on the wrong side of this community.

"Well?" Tex asked.

"There are over one hundred men remaining at their base. They have an outpost at Mount Vernon of about fifty men, and another in Bethesda. That has sixty."

"They have over two hundred men left?" Tex asked, his voice a mixture of anger, surprise, and nervousness. "We've got less than forty who can fight." He put an elbow on the desk, put his forehead in his hand, and rubbed his temple. His Texas drawl was unmistakable when he said his next word: "Shiiiiiit."


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl couldn't judge them for getting in over their heads. His people had been pretty cocky themselves when they'd wiped out that outpost by the satellite. They'd never imagined how many Saviors there were.

Tex sighed and looked down at the map. "And where's their base?"

"That, regretfully, I was unable to determine," Malik told him.

"I can show y'all." Daryl rose and walked over to the desk. Isaac moved out of his way. Visually, Daryl located Alexandria on the map, without pointing to it or revealing its location, and mentally counted eight miles east. Then he pointed to the spot. "'Round here. They call it the Sanctuary."

Tex circled the spot.

"Yer badly outnumbered," Daryl said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Jackson muttered.

"But we're better shots," Tammy insisted. "And we just got a bunch more guns and ammo today."

"Not to mention the RPG," Isaac added. "And they're leaderless now. They'll be scrambling."

Tex looked up at Daryl. "How many RPG's you think they have?"

"Half a dozen, maybe, at the Sanctuary," Daryl said. "Maybe more at the outposts. Don't really know. Just guessin' here."

Isaac leaned back against a bookcase. "Who do you suppose will lead them now?"

"Man named Dwight was his right hand at the Sanctuary," Daryl answered. "And he weren't here today."

Isaac shook his head. "The new leader will probably be a man who runs one of the two outposts. He'll already be accustomed to solitary command of fifty to sixty men."

"Don't know who leads the outposts," Daryl said. "But I heard the name Simon a couple times."

"How many people does your camp have?" Tex asked him.

Daryl walked away from the desk and sat back down in the chair without answering.

"What are you afraid of? Our people should be allies," Tex told him. "We have a common enemy. And we just saved your life, or at least improved it."

Daryl said nothing.

Tex sighed. He had a heavy, masculine sigh, like a wearied football coach who his tired of his players' bullshit. "What else did you get, Malik?"

"They are extorting at least three other communities in Virginia in addition to ours. The Hilltop, Alexandria, and the Kingdom." He pointed to Daryl. "He is from Alexandria."

"What do you know about these other communities?" Tex asked Daryl.

"Been to the Hilltop," he admitted. He didn't see how it could hurt. They already knew where he was from, and they _did_ seem like they would make good allies, as reluctant as he was to trust anyone after leaving Dwight alive. "Ain't never heard of the Kingdom."

Tex rolled his chair closer to the desk. "How many men do you have?" he asked again.

This time, Daryl answered. "Thirty who can fight, maybe. But we ain't got no weapons. Saviors took 'em all."

"And how did they manage that?" Jackson asked.

"They came to collect and…" Daryl shrugged. "They collected 'em all."

"You _let_ them?" Tammy sat forward in her chair. "Take them _all_? Without a fight?"

Daryl clenched his teeth. "I weren't in charge," he muttered. "I's a prisoner then. Look, they blindsided us, beat two of us to death, took me captive. We's badly outnumbered. Rick must of done what he thought was right to keep our people alive."

"Rick? That's your leader?" Tex asked.

Maybe Daryl was saying too much, but Rick had rolled over because they were outnumbered. Alexandria _needed_ friends. Friends with guns. Friends who could shoot. And all he had to offer these potential new friends was information and hope. "We took out one of their outposts awhile back," said Daryl, "and we can do it again. We just need weapons."

"And what about the Hilltop?" Tex asked. "Will they fight with us?"

"They ain't really fighters. They hired us to do their dirty work in the first place, take out that outpost."

"Hired you?" Tammy asked sharply. "Y'all are just mercenaries? You kill for the highest bidder?"

"Nah," Daryl said. "We needed food to live. We got women and children, just like y'all. Hilltop promised us food. Said Negan was extortin' 'em. We was tryin' to help them _and_ help ourselves. Knew the Saviors was bad men, just didn't know what we was gettin' in to."

Perhaps they never should have killed those men, but Daryl didn't suppose they could have avoided tangling with them eventually. The Saviors were like locusts, devouring everything in their path.

"They have weapons?" Tammy asked. "This Hilltop?"

"Not many." Unless they were hiding them. Daryl sure hadn't seen many when they visited. Jesus was unarmed when they met.

Tex rapped his fingers on the desk. "So it's just _us._ We're the only community armed against the Saviors?"

"Perhaps this Kingdom?" Malik suggested from his perch by the door. "Perhaps if we find them – "

"- How are we going to?" Tex asked. "And we don't have _time_. The Saviors will expect Negan back at the base within twenty-four hours."

"Sooner'n that," Daryl said. He rose and looked at the map again. "Where are y'all?"

Tex pointed to their location.

"Ain't but a two hour's drive to the Sanctuary. Saviors might expect the collecting and loading to take three. Might wait an extra two hours when he don't show. Already been an hour. I reckon y'all got eight hours at most 'fore they's at yer gates."

"We have more time than that," Tex said.

"They were planning to spend the night," Tammy explained. "They were going to look over our entire ranch, because they've never been inside the gates before. And as part of the deal, in exchange for not killing us all, they were going to select three wives from among our women."

"Jesus," Daryl muttered and slumped back into his chair. He glanced at Tammy. "You was gonna be one of 'em. Negan said he was plannin' to take ya prisoner, try to bend ya like me."

"Well he had another think comin'," Tex said. "But when Negan doesn't show up back at the Sanctuary tomorrow, they'll send more armed men out here. They'll be here…" He glanced at the map, at the spot where he had circled the base. "By two p.m. tomorrow at the earliest. Four at the latest. We have to hit their base first." He stabbed a finger at the location of the Sanctuary. "Take 'em by surprise."

"Forget that, babe," Tammy said. "We're outnumbered, and we don't have time to form an alliance. We don't want to go _into_ the hornet's nest, with all their men and all their weapons, and leave the children and elders unprotected here. We have to fight a _defensive_ war."

"We don't want them firing RPGs on our ranch, darlin'," Tex replied. "We don't want them setting this place on fire. We want to take them out at a distance, where they sleep."

"Baby," Tammy said, "you know how you always used to lose to me whenever we played that board game Risk?"

"I just did that to get it over with quicker so I could get laid."

Daryl snorted. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't _expected_ to. After all, he hadn't found anything funny in a long time. He immediately stifled his reaction. He felt bad that anything should be able to amuse him now.

Tammy rolled her eyes at her husband. "Like hell you did. You're as competitive as they come. You lost because you kept attacking positions that were too well fortified, and I kept building them up. Your armies just got smaller and smaller."

"Mhmm," Tex murmured. "Like my ego. Yeah, I remember now."

"When Negan doesn't show up back at the base," Tammy said, "they'll send a party to investigate. Might be bigger than the party they sent this time, but it won't be _everyone_. They can't leave their base undefended. Besides, they're arrogant. They haven't guessed what they're dealing with here. They think we're just farmers with a few guns. They won't be looking for a community that could take out twenty-three Saviors."

"They'll probably be thinking road trouble," Jackson agreed.

"They'll be looking for broken-down trucks," suggested Isaac.

"Right," Tammy said. "So let's give them two broken-down trucks, a mile from the ranch, where we've got those other two deer blinds. And then let's blow up those trucks right when they get there."

"Can y'all do that?" Daryl asked.

"We've got gunpowder and fertilizer," Tammy said. "We've got a chemist."

"And we've got a guy who used to be on the bomb squad for the Virginia state police," Jackson said. "Mikey."

"We put four of our best snipers in those blinds," Tammy continued. "The explosion will kill some of the Saviors. The rest will start running. When they do, our snipers go to work."

Tex nodded. "We pick off the search party, just like we picked off the collection party."

Tammy uncrossed her legs, letting both cowgirl boots rest on the plush carpet now, so she could lean forward in her chair. "And then when _those_ men don't come back," she said, "they'll send another party to investigate. And we'll do it again. And again. For as long as it takes until they're all gone. We just wait. Good things come to those who wait."

Tex smiled. "So you used to tell me."

She cocked her head at him. "And I was worth the wait, wasn't I, babe?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And if they _do_ send every man to fight ya?" Daryl asked. "If they make it past the trucks and snipers, and launch fire over yer walls?"

"We'll have three snipers back at the ranch," Tammy said. "One in each tower and one in the blind in the woods across from the gate. I don't think they're going to get an RPG off before one of our snipers takes out the man with the launcher. But we'll assign a bucket brigade and fill the buckets now, in case there _is_ fire. Everyone capable of fighting will be armed inside the gates. We'll be ready."

Tex nodded. "Malik," he said. "Start organizing the bucket brigade and getting those things filled. Make sure we know where all the extinguishers are too."

Malik nodded and left the room.

"Isaac," Tex commanded, "go start on the bombs and get those trucks rigged up and get 'em out there. Get Mikey and Martin to help."

"Yes, sir." Isaac went out the study door.

"Jackson, spread the word. See that everyone is armed and ready. Assign positions. We assume them at noon tomorrow."

"On it." Jackson left the room as well.

Tammy stood. "I'm gonna go check on the baby."

She left the two men alone in the study.

"Y'all have a baby?" Daryl asked when the door shut. Tammy didn't look like she'd been pregnant anytime recently.

"One of the dairy cows had a calf. It's been sickly. Tammy's tryin' to save it." Tex folded the map on his desk. "How good a shot are you?"

"I'm best with a crossbow," Daryl said. "But I ain't bad with a rifle neither."

Tex chuckled. "Crossbow? Hardly seems like the ideal weapon for an apocalypse."

"It's quiet. Don't attract the walkers. It's served me just fine."

"Has it?" Tex asked. "You appear to have been taken prisoner."

Daryl gritted his teeth together, but he suppressed his animal impulse to respond to the light insult disproportionately.

"I suppose you were ambushed and there was nothing you could do." Tex laced his fingers together on the desk. "That's what happened to Tammy when our son was killed. Though I keep wondering, if I had been there with her that day…if I hadn't stayed home to break a damn horse…" He shook his head.

"Cain't second guess yerself like that," Daryl said. "Cain't blame yerself for the blood on someone else's hands." After he said the words, he knew they were a lie. You could. He _did_. He blamed himself for Glenn, for Maggie, and for their unborn baby.

"Well I can't give you a crossbow," Tex told Daryl, "but I can give you a rifle, if you're willing to shoot from the towers with us. Or the woods. You look like more of a woodsman."

"I need to get back to my own people. If this don't work out for y'all, and them Saviors see me here, they'll come down on Alexandria. And my people ain't got no guns."

"If they see you in Alexandria, they'll come down on your people, too. They aren't going to let an escaped prisoner go _home_. Stay here. Help us."

"Cain't. Got to get back to my people. Now."

Tex smiled and shook his head. "You must have a woman there. Can't blame you. I'd probably go back for Tammy, even if it was the most foolish thing in the world to do."

 _A woman?_ Daryl thought. _What woman?_ Not Beth. She was dead. Not Michonne. She was Rick's. Not Tara. She was gay. Not Rosita or Sasha. Their hearts were in the grave with Abraham. Not Maggie. He'd killed her husband and the grief had put her and her baby in that grave he'd seen in Alexandria. And not Carol. They'd been close once, him and Carol, closer than he'd ever been to any woman, but she'd pulled away. Carol hadn't even been around when Negan had taken him to Alexandria to collect. Maybe she'd been off screwing Tobin. What she saw in that pansy ass man, Daryl couldn't begin to guess. Tobin was the anti-Ed, he supposed - stable, polite, even tempered, non-violent, non-demanding. Hell, maybe he was the anti-Daryl, too.

"Don't have a woman," he muttered.

"I find that hard to believe," Tex replied. "You have _something_ back there."

Daryl felt like he had to give the man some reason. "Got a family. Rick's my brother."

"Any kids?"

"Yeah. Got a toddler named Judith, a teenage boy named Carl, and a girl named Enid. I got a bunch of sisters, too. Sasha. Michonne. Ro -"

"- That's a damn big family to survive the apocalypse together."

"Yeah. It is."

"Well good on you. Sticking together like that. Can't blame you for wanting to go back to that." Tex stood and pushed back his chair. "Unfortunately I can't let you leave."

Daryl stood also. "You gonna shoot me to stop me?"

Tex looked at him coolly. It was the first time Daryl had noticed the hardness in the man's eyes. His tone was so calm, but his eyes were the eyes of a man who had lost his only son and refused to lose his only home. "If we have to." He picked up his rifle and shouldered it. "It's nothing personal, but we can't risk the Saviors finding you on your way back, before they're surprised by us. They could torture you, get all sorts of information out of you."

"They done tried that. They couldn't get a damn thing out of me back at the Sanctuary. And I won't get caught."

"I'm sure that's what you thought the first time."

Daryl gritted his teeth.

"Listen, I'm a reasonable man," Tex said. "I'm just asking you to be _equally_ reasonable. You can't help your people by going back now. Stay with us. Fight with us. Help us decimate their ranks. We'll keep 'em damn busy and away from your people. Once we've beaten them down, _then_ you can go back. We'll even give you a car, some guns, and some ammunition to take with you."

"Why?" Daryl asked. "Why so generous?"

"Because there ain't many decent people left in this world," the rancher said. "You've got women and children, and you're the enemy of the Saviors…that's enough for me. And if you survive all this, and we survive all this, maybe our communities can talk trade. We have plenty of food, but we need medicines and other things. And we don't like to scavenge."

Daryl nodded.

"So you'll stay?"

"Don't sound like I got much of a choice."

"You'll fight?"

"Hell yeah," Daryl said. "Damn right I'll fight."

"Then let's go pick you out a rifle."


	7. Chapter 7

Tex opened the wooden gun cabinet in the dining room. "These are our back-ups. Take your pick."

Everyone was already armed, and they still had a dozen _back-ups_?

Daryl walked slowly down the case and looked the rifles over. The first was a wooden .22. with a youth stock, not unlike the hunting rifle his Uncle Billy Joe had given him for his 10th birthday. Daryl had loved his mama's brother. Daddy never dared hit Daryl or call mama a useless bitch when Billy Joe was around. But Daryl's uncle had been into drag racing, and he'd plowed himself into an early grave, when Daryl was just eleven.

The next rifle was an M16 much like the one Abraham had once used. A sudden image of that man's stoic face when the barbwire-wrapped bat first struck his red hair flashed through Daryl's mind. He walked quickly away.

The next gun was an AR-15 somewhat like Sasha's, but not quite so customized. His eyes flitted on to the The M1 carbine, which made him think of Tyrese. That man hadn't crossed his mind in awhile. Sasha had lost a brother, just as Daryl had. She'd lost Bob, too, and then Abraham. She'd lost man after man after man. Daryl wondered how she was enduring the latest loss. He hadn't seen her in Alexandria during the collection. He hadn't seen Michonne, Carol, _or_ Sasha, come to think of it. Maybe Sasha had been up in one of the rooms, crying into her pillow, but she didn't seem the crying-into-her-pillow type.

He strolled on. The Colt M16A4 turned his mind to Carol. She'd gone from cringing at the recoil, to holding the gun like an extension of her own arm, to laying it aside in some kind of crisis of conscience. Daryl picked up the weapon and turned it over in his hands. He thought of that time back in the prison, when he'd offered to massage Carol's sore muscles after a day of firing, until he'd realized, with a sudden jolt, that he was touching a woman. _Intimately_. He'd screwed women before, of course. He just wasn't used to touching them like that. Affectionately. He'd felt suddenly self-conscious and was sure he must be doing it wrong, even though she was smiling. Her teasing hadn't helped. It had made him feel even more self-conscious.

Carol hadn't teased him as much in Alexandria. She'd threatened to hose him down once, but that was it. She'd undergone some kind of change. They all had, he supposed. Change upon change. But trying to understand Carol's changes was like trying to grasp hold of the wind. She was baking and fake smiling and pretending to care about casseroles in the morning, slaying the Wolves in a blood-coated poncho in the afternoon, and then crying over the thought of having to kill anyone at all in the evening. None of it made any sense to him.

The worst part was that she didn't seem to need him anymore, the way she'd once needed him to search for Sophia, the way she'd once needed him to teach her to shoot, the way she'd once needed him to be her friend. He'd even thought, for awhile there, when he'd learned to accept her teasing, when he'd stopped fearing her touch, that maybe they were on their way to being _more_ than friends. The thought seemed ridiculous now, as ridiculous as that PTA-mom sweater she'd worn in Alexandria.

"You want that one?" Tex asked.

"Nah." He put it back. He nodded to the end of the case. "Take that Norinco Type 56. Had a few of those back in Alexandria 'fore Negan cleared it out."

"It's not the best choice in my opinion."

"It's the one I've used the most since this shitstorm started."

"Then it _is_ the best choice. For you." Tex pulled it out of the case and handed it to him.

Daryl checked the chamber. Then he aimed at a painting on the wall, at the head of a woman in a Mexican market place, and dry fired. "It'll do."

"Pick a handgun, too."

There were six in the case, laying flat on a shelf. He couldn't look at the Colt revolver without thinking of Rick. Rick had put a revolver much like that one to his head on the roof in Atlanta. Back then, Rick had said he _would not hesitate._ Rick sure was hesitating now, however. Or maybe he wasn't. He hadn't hesitated to hand over every last one of Alexandria's guns. Daryl still wasn't sure whether that had been the right or wrong decision. He was only glad he wasn't the man who had to make such calls. The weight of leadership that Rick bore upon his shoulders must be as great as the weight of guilt Daryl bore upon his.

"Smith & Wesson 586?" asked Tex, pointing to the next gun. "That's a classic."

Daryl's eyes fell on the revolver. He thought of Morales, who had parted ways with them when they headed to the CDC. Rick had handed the man a similar revolver for the road. At the time, Daryl had rolled his eyes and shook his head. He'd thought Morales was an idiot for going it alone, and that Rick was a fool for handing over yet another one of the group's guns. But today, Daryl would gladly arm a good man who was only trying to do what he thought was best for his family. And maybe Morales had been smarter than any of them, after all, for not joining the group on their fool's errand to the CDC, which had been followed by struggle after struggle, collapse after collapse. Maybe Morales had never been forced to tangle with anything like one-eyed men or cannibals or Wolves or Saviors. Maybe he was right now living with his wife and children and extended family in Birmingham, safe in some barricaded family fortress, killing the occasional walker and nothing more.

Daryl picked up the gray Glock 17. Shane had owned one of these, though it was black. He'd had it in a holster on his hip when Daryl, who had been hunting at the time, first stumbled on the cop in the woods outside the quarry camp. Shane had that Glock pointed in his face in less than 1.5 seconds, too. Daryl checked the chamber, chose a different painting on the wall, closed one eye, and dry fired. He put the gun back. He picked up the Browning Hi Power next and considered the grip. It was comfortable in his hands. "My brother had one of these," he said. "I's always jealous of it." He slid the handgun into his holster. It fit tightly.

"Your brother Rick?"

"My brother Merle," Daryl said. He'd forgotten he'd told Tex all those people were his family. But, in a way, they were. "Merle died fightin' for us."

"Against the Saviors?"

"Nah. Saviors ain't the first bloodthirsty crew we've dealt with. But Merle...he died fightin' for us." It was a fact that still surprised Daryl a little, every time he thought of it. Surprised and saddened him. Maybe if Merle had lived, he would have kept fighting for them. Maybe things would have been different, and some people would not have died. Maybe Merle would have become a different man,the man he was meant to be.

"Well, your brother sounds like he was a good man." Tex put a hand on his shoulder. Daryl tensed, but he realized it was a gesture of sympathy, and he forced himself not to jerk away. Perhaps Tex felt the tension, because he patted Daryl's shoulder once and then quickly drew away his hand. "Let's go get you some ammo."


	8. Chapter 8

The ammunition was stored in the cellar, along with ten full cases of wine and several bottles of whiskey, vodka, and tequila. No beer. The tequila was in bottles shaped like the state of Texas. It made Daryl want to laugh. Georgians might have an identity, but Texans apparently had a psychosis.

There were two bookshelves full of canned and dried goods, including beans, rice, and pasta. They had a lot of heavy, green metal cases full of ammo, as well as individual boxes, stacked on storage shelves. Almost one entire wall of the cellar was floor to ceiling ammunition. Cardboard boxes on the floor housed empty magazines for a variety of guns. "Where'd you get all this?" Daryl asked in awe.

"Brought some of it up from my own ranch," Tex replied. "It's a long way. Took us three months and a few adventures to get here, and we scavenged along the way. Tammy and I each brought our own pick-ups. Jackson was living in the Secret Service CAT van before he found us, and it had a shitload of ammo. But a lot of this? It was already here. Think maybe the owner of Green Acres thought the end was nigh."

"Well he were't wrong."

As Daryl loaded up a 20-round magazine for his rifle, Tex said, "The owner was an environmentalist, an amateur architect, an engineer, _and_ a gun nut. Interesting fellow. Pure genius. I never met him in person, but I read up on this ranch. It was legendary, at least among people in my profession. So when the shit hit the fan, and our ranch got overrun, we decided this would be our new Eden, if it was still standing. And it was."

"Weren't nobody here?" Daryl asked as he loaded up a second 20-round magazine for back up.

"Just the owner and his wife and three kids, but they'd turned. I reckon he held off looters until he died and didn't take any survivors in. They were trapped in the locked-up house, fortunately, or they might have eaten all the livestock. All this work..." Tex looked around the cellar, "and in the end, I think he just dropped dead of a heart attack late one night, died, turned, and attacked his own family. But Green Acres lives on. And we've made good use of it."

Daryl fully loaded two more clips for his handgun.

"Put another couple handfuls in your pockets," Tex told him, so Daryl did.

When they emerged from the cellar, Tammy was standing there with a hand on her hip. "Think we should put the kids down here? And the elders? Just in case?"

"Some of the kids could serve on bucket brigade," Tex replied. "Some of the elders, too."

"Just the kids under nine, then? And the sicklier older ones?"

Tex nodded. "Sounds reasonable. Though, if the Saviors get as far as the main house..."

Tammy grimaced. "It's already too late."

"Might give the kids some comfort though, to be down there." Tex looked at Daryl and jerked his head forward. Daryl followed him through the kitchen, dinning room, and living room, where he heard hammering in the distance. Daryl looked out the bay window toward the front of the ranch to see about fourteen people building something.

"Barricades," Tex explained. "It was Isaac's idea. We'll put ten armed men behind them, in case they breach the gates."

"Think ya can build 'em in time? With just a dozen or so people?"

"I'm headed out to build myself. How are you feeling? I know you've been in a cell for days and half starved. You got the strength to work?"

"Just give me a hammer."

"I'll give you an axe. Looks like you've got chopping arms."

[*]

That night, Green Acres ate dinner in three shifts, with nine or ten people seated at the kitchen table and six in the dinning room. Daryl was ravenous by the time he was served, during the last shift, at about 8 PM. They were having breakfast for dinner - bacon, eggs, and fluffy, flaky biscuits with homemade apple butter that made Daryl want to hum.

"Sorry you're getting more pig, but we don't kill the cows," Tex said. "Or the chickens. We keep them for milk and eggs."

"We eat a lot of venison, though," Tammy said. "And the occasional wild turkey."

That explained the deer blinds. These people were hunters as well as farmers.

Daryl was given a glass of water tonight and secretly wished for that cool, delicious milk they'd offered him earlier. He was seated in the dining room with Tex, Tammy, Isaac, Jackson, and a woman they just called Doctor. She'd been a general practitioner in the old world.

When everyone's plates were mostly clean, Tex rose, went to the hutch, and popped open a bottle of wine.

"I thought no one was drinking until we won this war," Isaac said.

"I think we all need to calm our nerves a little." Tex drew down six wine glasses and poured everyone about four ounces, except for his wife, who got just a little bit more.

After sitting back down at the head of the table, Tex raised his glass and looked across the table at Tammy, who sat on the other end. "To our boy, Cash. In his honor, tomorrow, we slay these fuckers."

"Here, here!" Jackson cried, and everyone raised and clanged glasses.

Daryl joined in awkwardly. He felt like he'd been taken into the inner circle, and he didn't quite know why. Maybe it was because Negan hadn't broken him.

"A southern gentleman does not swear in front of a lady," Tammy said.

"Well, good thing there are no ladies here," Tex replied with a wink.

Daryl took one small sip of the wine and rolled the red liquid slowly on his tongue. It tasted better than any wine he'd ever had, even better than that stuff at the CDC. That night was the first time he'd ever seen Carol laugh, the first time he'd realized she was pretty. Her eyes had twinkled as she watched little Carl wince at his first sip of wine. They'd all been drinking and talking and laughing and hoping for a cure, for a new life, for a rescue from this ugly world. Even Daryl had been laughing, and shouting _Boo-yah!_ as he swigged straight from his own private bottle. He'd felt a part of something that night. For the first time since joining the quarry camp, he'd felt a part of the group.

Back then, Glenn was still alive. He was alive and laughing and drinking, and Daryl had told him, "Keep drinking, little man. I want to see how red your face can get!"

 _I want to see how red your face can get._

The photo of Glenn's beaten face flashed like lighting through his mind.

Daryl threw back the rest of his wine in one quick gulp. It burned his esophagus. He choked and sputtered, but it was the guilt, and not the wine, he was choking on.


	9. Chapter 9

Daryl was given a blanket and pillow to sleep on the couch in the study, which apparently doubled as Tex and Tammy's bedroom. The couple spread out a sleeping bag flat on the floor and made a nest of pillows and blankets. They were the leaders of this ranch, and yet they hadn't claimed the master bedroom or any of the servant's houses. They slept on the floor in the study. Daryl couldn't help but contrast their surroundings with Negan's private, luxury crib.

Exhausted, Daryl fell asleep almost immediately, and with no "Easy Street" to wake him up every fifteen minutes, he slept soundly for a good four hours. He awoke, however, to the sound of Tammy crying and Tex whispering, "Shhh...shhh...darlin', it's a'right."

"I miss him so much," she murmured.

"I know," Tex soothed her. "So do I. We're gonna end this though. We will."

She didn't stop crying.

Daryl rolled over and turned his face to the back of the couch. He _hated_ the sound of a woman crying. It reminded him of his mother, crying all those nights Daddy didn't come home because he was with some other woman. It reminded him also of Carol, crying in that RV, weeping over her missing daughter. Daryl had wanted to smash something, to do anything to distract himself from the painful sound of Carol's tears. He'd wanted to thrust a stopper in her aching, but the only thing he could do was leave and walk the road, hoping for any sign of Sophia.

He had to leave now, too.

Daryl rolled off the couch. "Cain't sleep. Goin' to help yer men stand watch."

[*]

As Daryl passed a pick-up parked at the side of the main dirt path leading from the ranch house to the gate, he thought of the possibility of just sneaking off. Going home. But Tex was right. There was nothing he could do for his people, certainly not with a single rifle and a handgun. The best he could do for them was to stay here and fight their enemy. Rick was protecting them, keeping them alive, even if through submission. This ranch, like a magnet, could draw the Savior's wrath from Alexandria.

A free-ranging cow, which sat in the grass, lifted its head and rustled the long, green blades as Daryl passed by. Fireflies floated listlessly in the Virginia night air, flashing on and off in a call to love. The scene was strangely beautiful. However sick and fallen and twisted this world became, nature pressed on just the same, the one thing that hadn't changed.

Nature was cruel, too, of course - as cruel as it was beautiful. Of a hundred seeds, only one might grow. Fathers ate their rival young. Animals hunted one another, just as humans were doing now. Storms destroyed entire towns. None of that bothered Daryl, however. Nature didn't have a conscience. But men _ought_ to. Men _ought_ to defend the weak, not extort them. It was one thing to kill the people who were trying to subjugate you, but it was another to be the one who was doing the subjugating.

Daryl _had_ to remind himself of that, because he knew some of those Saviors were just trying to survive. He knew he would be killing broken people tomorrow, people who were mere shells of their former, better selves. He couldn't blame them for wanting to find a way to live, but there were lines that should not be crossed, even for survival. Daryl would have chosen death rather than brutally extort the innocent for Negan.

Daryl made his gradual way to the leftmost watchtower, where Issac now stood, rifle in hand, eyes in all directions. He chose this tower because Malik was in the other one, and something about the man's coolness disturbed him. Of course, it wasn't as if Daryl hadn't once beaten information out of a man himself, back on Hershel's farm, but he hadn't been nearly as comfortable doing it. Well...maybe he _had_ been, until Carol had asked him if it made him feel like more of a man, if he had hit that boy because he couldn't hit her back in the barn.

That boy, he thought, had _needed_ hitting. His people were killers and rapists, and they would have ravished the women on that farm. But Carol was right about one thing. He was angry enough to hit her back in that barn, if he had been the kind of man to hit a woman. He was angry that she'd asked him to give up the hunt for Sophia. No one had hunted for him all those days he was lost in the woods as a boy, but Carol had been desperate to find her daughter. _Desperate._ And Carol had possessed faith in Daryl, too, had told him he was every bit as good as Rick. She'd believed Daryl had the skill and the determination to find Sophia. She'd _believed_ in him, and then, suddenly...she hadn't. She'd told him, _We don't even know if she's still alive._

Of course, she'd also told him, _I can't lose you, too._ Daryl hadn't processed those words back then. He was too angry. Only later did he realize that she might care for him. But that was a long time ago. He'd never had the courage to act, and she'd move on to Tobin.

Daryl made his quick way up the rickety ladder at the side of the watchtower. Isaac turned and nodded when he walked onto the platform. "Can relieve ya if ya want," Daryl said. "I ain't sleepin'."

"I'd have to run that by Tex, and I don't want to disturb him."

What Daryl heard was - _I don't trust you to keep watch._ He wasn't offended. He wouldn't have given the duty over to a stranger himself.

"But you can join me," Isaac added. "A second set of eyes never hurts."

Daryl nodded and moved to the opposite corner of the tower from Isaac. "Ya don't happen to have a smoke, do ya?" Daryl hadn't had a cigarette since he'd been taken captive. One would think the torture would eclipse the withdraw, but he'd found the lack of smokes to be worse than the dog food.

"Tex doesn't allow tobacco products of any kind on the ranch."

"What?"

Isaac's straight, white teeth flashed in the moonlight. He had a single missing tooth on the far, top left, which Daryl hadn't noticed until he smiled. He must have lost it _after_ the turn, or else the space would have likely been filled in by some cosmetic substitute. "Just kidding." He fished in the pocket of his army fatigues, pulled out a pack, and extended it.

Daryl took it with a hearty thanks. "Got a light?"

Isaac reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a silver lighter engraved with a gold Marine logo and the name John Hanson on it. Daryl leaned over it to light the cigarette and didn't ask who John Hanson was. A fallen brother, most likely, but not fallen in the desert sands where they'd once fought a foreign enemy together. John Hanson had probably survived all that warfare only to be devoured by walkers on his home turf. Or so Daryl imagined.

Daryl took a long, slow draw and blew the smoke out with a satisfied sigh. Then he said, "Ya remind me of someone I used to know." Isaac looked so much like T-Dog, though he was taller.

"Do I? Or do all black people just look alike to you?"

"Nah. You don't remind me nothin' of Bob. Scrawny little guy. Or Father Gabriel. Creepy little fucker."

Isaac chuckled. He picked up a pair of night vision binoculars and scanned the horizon. After he put them down, he asked, "Has your group lost a lot of people?"

"Yeah," Daryl answered quietly. "Too many."

"Mine too, before we made it here. We had fifteen. When we found Green Acres, we only had four. Me, a teenage boy, a ten-year-old girl, and their mother. She used to claim to love me, but once we were safely in Green Acres, and there were other men..." Isaac shrugged. "She wouldn't give me the time of day. I guess what she loved was the protection I provided."

"Mhm," Daryl murmured. "Guess that part of the world ain't changed none. Still cain't count on a woman to be anythin' but fickle." He knew that wasn't true, even as he said it. Maggie had been loyal to Glenn until the end. Rosita had been loyal to Abraham until _he'd_ dumped _her_. Even after he had, Rosita's heart was still with him.

But Carol...Carol had started sharing a bed with Tobin, even when Daryl was right there in the next house. Of course, it wasn't as though Carol had betrayed him. They weren't a couple, not that way, not like Glenn and Maggie. And yet...he _felt_ betrayed. She hadn't even _talked_ to him about it. She hadn't given him a chance to make some kind of counter offer. She'd just walked up that man's porch stairs and into his bed.

Or maybe Carol wasn't _in_ Tobin's bed. After all, she and Daryl had been in the same prison cell several times and never once shared a bed. He'd slept on the bunk below hers, to keep her company on difficult nights, when thoughts of Sophia haunted her dreams. He wondered now if they would have ended up sharing a bed if just _once_ he'd taken one of her sexual jokes as something _other_ than a joke. But he'd been too afraid of her rejection.

"Sounds like you've been put through the wringer, too."

"Nah," Daryl said. "Ain't no one ever claimed to love me and then took it back." Carol had never claimed to love him. She'd claimed to _know_ him.

"Where are you from?" Isaac asked. "Originally? Alabama?"

"Georgia."

"That's where my brother Theodore lived. Outside of Atlanta. We're from North Carolina, originally, but he moved there fifteen years ago to be the Outreach Minister for some church. He was always a bit of a religious nut. Good guy, though. I guess he's dead now."

"Theodore...Douglas?"

"Yeeeaah," Isaac said, elongating the word with surprise.

"T-Dog?"

"Some people called him that, yeah. How in the hell do you know - "

"- He was with our group. That's who ya reminded me of! See! Ain't that I think all black folk look alike. Just saw the family resemblance is all."

" _Was_ with your group?" Isaac asked, coldly, his tone masking the emotion that was clearer in his eyes. "So he _is_ dead then?"

In his excitement over discovering the connection, Daryl hadn't thought about the fact that Isaac might have maintained a distant hope that his brother was still alive somewhere. He nodded. "Gave his life to rescue a woman in our group." Daryl had been grateful to T-Dog for that. Finding Carol behind that door, finding out that she wasn't dead after all, had been one of the happiest moments of his life.

"And was it worth it?" Isaac asked, his voice a little sad and a little resigned. "Is she even still alive?"

"Far as I know." Daryl certainly _hoped_ Carol was, but why hadn't she been in Alexandria when Negan had taken him to collect? "And T-Dog savin' _her_ life? That kept her alive to save a bunch more of us later on." Terminus seemed a lifetime ago now. "She saved me, and I'm still standin'. So's Rick. Sasha. Eugene. Rosita. Tara." Not Glenn, though. Not Abraham. Not Bob. And not even Maggie. Sometime after Daryl had been taken, she'd been buried in the Alexandrian earth. "Your brother saved seven lives, in a way."

Isaac nodded solemnly. "Theodore always was a sacrificial sort. Sometimes it annoyed the shit out of me, his damn _goodness_. Made me feel inadequate."

"I know the feelin'. He made me feel like that to. My brother treated him like shit, but when Merle got left behind. T-Dog went back with me to find 'em. He was a good man."

Isaac sniffled, once, and then picked up the binoculars abruptly. He covered his eyes with the lenses, looked out at the distance, and didn't say anything else for the next hour, when someone else came to relieve him. It was a woman, and Daryl didn't want to hang out alone in the watchtower with a woman. She might be intimidated by him, or, still worse, he might be intimidated by her. So he returned to the study.

Very cautiously and quietly, Daryl opened the study door, ready to backtrack if Tammy was still crying in there. She wasn't. In fact, she and Tex were fucking. Maybe "making love" would have been a better term for it, but that wasn't in Daryl's everyday vocabulary. Tammy moaned softly as she straddled her husband and moved in rhythm with him. Daryl backtracked immediately, before either could notice him, and cursed himself for not knocking. He hadn't wanted to wake them if they were asleep. He made his way to one of the barns, where he dozed off in the loft, in a pile of hay, wondering what it must be like to have a lover who could do that - who could fuck your tears away.


	10. Chapter 10

The steel tip of a cowgirl boot gently nudged Daryl's side. Bright sunlight filtered through the window of the loft. Daryl sat up hastily and brushed the straw out of his hair, or, at least, what was left of his hair.

"We were afraid you'd snuck off back to Alexandria," Tammy said.

"No, ma'am."

"We're having breakfast, and then we're getting in position. Might be hours before they get here, but we want to be ready."

Breakfast was scrambled eggs and peaches topped with fresh, homemade cottage cheese washed down by rich coffee with a hint of heavy cream. It wouldn't be a bad last meal, if it came to that. Daryl ate at the dining room table again, with Tex and Tammy on each end, though this time the doctor had been replaced by the chemist and Jackson had been replaced by Malik. He couldn't quite figure out what the governing structure was here. As far as Daryl could tell, Tex and Tammy were in charge. Tex was the official leader but the man let Tammy pull his strings a lot of the time. They both leaned heavily on Isaac's advice, and Jackson and Malik seemed to be often at their sides as well, but they didn't appear to have a formal Council of any kind.

"You're going to be in the deer blind nearest the trucks with me," Tex told Daryl.

"A'right."

" _I_ should be there with you," Tammy told her husband. "I want to be close to the action."

"I want you back nearer the ranch," Tex told her, "in the deer blind across from the gate."

"I'm every bit a good a shot as you are, babe."

"I know," Tex said. "And that's why I want you near the ranch. To protect our people."

"Admit it. You just don't want me near the action."

"Tammy..." Tex leaned over his plate. "I don't want to have to say this bluntly, but if the Saviors make it to the gates, that likely means I'm dead. You're going to need to be in charge of this ranch. Some of the other people here know how to work on a ranch, but none of them know how to _run_ one."

"Then why don't _you_ stay in the blind across from the gate?"

Tex sat back. "I'd never forgive myself if I put you on the front lines and you died while I lived. _Please._ Give me this one thing, darlin'."

"Fine." Tami stabbed her fork at the last of her scrambled eggs.

[*]

The snipers assumed their positions, some at the ranch, and some near the trucks. There were shooters in the two watchtowers, in the three deer blinds, on the roof of the ranch house, and in the loft of the barn.

The bomb-laden trucks were parked in the roadway and made to look broken down, one with a flat tire, the other with its hood open.

More armed men and women lined up behind the ranch's barricades.

Buckets full of water and fire extinguishers lined the porch of the main house, ready to put out fires from RPGs if necessary.

The younger children and feebler old people disappeared into the cellar.

And then they waited.

Daryl and Tex waited in the deer blind nearest the trucks. Several yards from them was another blind where Jackson waited. Isaac lay flat on his stomach in the tall grass in the ditch at the side of the road.

They waited for hours, switching out for bathroom breaks.

They waited through dinner and were brought plates of food by teenage messenger boys.

They waited as the sun set, and they waited as the stars came out.

They waited, taking turns to nap, through the night.

They waited as the sun rose the next morning.

They waited, and they waited...but no one came.

[*]

"This is damn anti-climatic," Tex muttered.

"Maybe they know what we did, and they're going to wait a few days to try to take us by surprise," Isaac suggested. Daryl and Tex had climbed out of their blind to confer with Isaac among the trees.

"You mean maybe they're gathering their entire army?" Tex asked. "I said we should have struck first!"

"You agreed this was the best plan," Isaac reminded him.

Tex sighed.

"Need to send a scout," Daryl told them. "Maybe they's gearin' up for a big attack. Or maybe, with the head chopped off, there's mutiny. I don't think all them Saviors exactly loved Negan. Maybe, with him gone, they don't even _want_ to slaughter y'all."

"You really believe that?" Tex asked skeptically.

"That man Dwight, Negan's right hand? He tried to leave once, but he came back. He came back and Negan took his wife, broke him down. Dwight did the master's bidding, but..." Daryl shook his head.

"How much loyalty can a man have to a man who took his wife?" Tex asked.

"Exactly."

Tex took off his cowboy hat and scratched his head. "Well this Dwight fellow may not have loved Negan, but he obviously loves to survive more than he loves his wife." He settled the hat back on his head. "Otherwise, she never would have been taken except over his dead body."

Daryl couldn't disagree with that.

"So if survival is what Dwight loves most in the world," Tex said, "We've got to ask ourselves - what's his next move to _survive_?"

"Make peace with the people who took out twenty-two saviors in twenty-two seconds?" Isaac suggested.

"So are we sending a scout, or a peace party?" Tex asked.

"I say we send a scout first," Isaac replied. "See what we're dealing with before we walk in the lion's den with nothing but an olive branch."

"I'll go," Daryl volunteered. "Y'all need to defend yer people here, in case they show. I know where the base is, and I know its layout, more or less. Worse that happens if they find me is they think I escaped. They don't have to know I was with y'all."

"No," Tex said. "I want my own man in there, so Isaac's going with you. He's the most stealth man I've got. Besides, no one should go it alone. If one of you is killed, maybe the other can get word back. In fact, take Hugo, too."

Daryl had no idea who Hugo was. He hadn't been introduced to any such man yet.

"Take the Secret Service C.A.T van," said Jackson, emerging from between two trees. "It's armor-plated, in case you run into trouble on the way there or the way back."

Isaac nodded.

[*]

The left Jackson and another shooter on watch near the trucks and hiked back to the ranch to tell Tammy the plan and pack up for the scouting trip. When they neared the hidden deer blind, they heard a sudden snap, followed by a shout and a loud crashing sound. Tex ran into the woods, followed closely by Isaac. Daryl jogged after them.

Tex fell to his knees before his wife, who was pinned beneath an enormous tree branch. Daryl looked up and saw the decaying wood where it had broken off from the tree above. The thing had taken down half the deer blind with it. Tammy screamed, and that was when Daryl saw the thick, jagged, pointy stick piercing her right side. Dark red blood spilled out around the open wound.

"Fuck it!" Tex shouted. "Isaac! Get the doctor!"

Isaac ran off to the ranch while Tammy's screams quieted to moans and then finally words. "Goddamn it hurts."

Tex put a hand on her shoulder. "Shhh...Doctor's comin', darlin'. Hold on."

"Think I broke my back. Oh fuck it hurts!" She craned her neck and looked down at her side where the branch pierced through. "Why's there so much blood?" She blinked and closed her eyes.

"Tammy?" Tex said anxiously. "Tammy, darlin' you conscious?"

He received no response. He put an ear to her mouth and sighed in relief. He stood and looked worriedly through the trees. "Where the fuck's that doctor?" He paced. "I should have taken this blind, like she asked me to."

"You was tryin' to keep her safe," Daryl said.

Tex took off his hat and threw it angrily at a nearby tree. "Fuck it all!"

When the doctor arrived, along with some other man and a stretcher, the men used all their strength to lift the fallen tree branch off of Tammy. The doctor told Isaac to cut off the jagged growth that was lodged in her side. Then she poured alcohol on the wound and eased the stick out. Tammy regained consciousness and screamed.

"It's pretty bad," the doctor said as she and Tex lifted her onto the stretcher. "Let's get her to the infirmary."

Daryl and Isaac carried the stretcher. The infirmary was in the smallest of the guest houses, which had been converted for medical use. It appeared the doctor and her husband lived and slept there as well. "I'm going to need more antibiotic," the doctor said. "To make sure she doesn't get a bad infection. We're out."

"Hilltop probably has antibiotic," Daryl suggested. "Would probably trade you for guns or ammo."

"Then take me there," Tex insisted. "Take me to the Hilltop."

"We'll go," Isaac told him. "You need to stay here with her, and to defend the ranch if the Saviors do end up attacking. Daryl and Hugo and I will go to the Hilltop after we scout out the Sanctuary. And then we'll bring the medicine back here."

Tex nodded. He looked down at his unconscious wife. "Be quick about it."


	11. Chapter 11

Hugo turned out to be a stern-faced boy with thick, curly black hair, olive-toned skin, and a prominent nose that looked as if it had been broken more than once. The kid appeared to fourteen at most. Probably thirteen. Maybe even twelve.

"He old enough to be on a mission like this?" Daryl asked Isaac in a near whisper.

Isaac was loading rifles and some ammo into the rear of the Secret Service C.A.T. van while Hugo stood by the front and cleaned his handgun on a white drop cloth he'd lain down on the hood. The kid must be left handed, because his holster was on his left hip, though it was hard to tell, because there was also a handgun on his right ankle beneath his pant leg (Daryl noticed the outline and bulge), a large knife on his right hip, and a smaller knife on his left ankle.

"Hugo?" Isaac asked. "Up until eleven months ago, he was surviving entirely on his own. He was living in the town library, which he'd secured himself, and making periodic supply runs. He'll be fine."

Daryl, curious, wandered over to the kid. "Nice pistol," he said.

Hugo glanced up at him and then went back to cleaning his gun.

"Had one like that when I's seventeen," Daryl told him. "Weren't legal for me to own it, so, technically, it was my brother Merle's."

The kid looked up again. Hugo's pecan-brown eyes flitted up and down Daryl's face, but he said nothing. He began to put his pistol back together.

A little peeved, Daryl strolled back to Isaac at the rear of the van. It wasn't often he made an attempt to make conversation with anyone, and he didn't like his efforts falling flat. "Kid's even less of a talker than I am."

Isaac shut the rear doors of the van. "Boy's deaf and mute."

Now Daryl felt like an ass. "Didn't even know what I was sayin' to him, did he?"

"He can read lips."

"Well, shit, that might come in handy when we're scoutin' out the Sanctuary."

Isaac smiled, revealing that missing tooth. "Yeah, Einstein, that's why Tex wanted me to bring him."

Isaac drove while Daryl sat in the front passenger seat and Hugo sat sideways in the first row behind that, one workboot flat on the ground and the other leg stretched out on the bench seat in front of himself. In the rear view mirror, Daryl watched the kid flip to the middle of a thick, hardback book that looked like it had to be at least a thousand pages long. The print was tiny.

Daryl found it odd that he was reading at a time such as this, on a scouting expedition, in the middle of a war. He thought of the comic books Michonne used to pick up for Carl on their runs beyond the prison, during the longest period of peace they'd ever experienced. Back then, Carol had liked to read those short mystery novels, A is for Alibi, M is for Murder, B is for Bullshit or some such. Daryl never understood why she'd want to solve a mystery. Their lives were a constant mystery. Where's the Governor? Is he going to attack again? How can we reinforce the fence? Where can we find more antibiotics? Why the fuck are people rising from the dead? But Carol read two of those mysteries every week, in those quiet days, in that place she'd called " _our_ home," before Tobin's home was her home.

Not wanting to think about that, Daryl distracted himself by examining the van. He ran his hand over the leather and pressed the button for the heated seats. It wasn't cold enough to need it, but he just wanted to see if it worked. He'd never ridden in a car with an ass warmer before. Sure enough, his ass got warm. He turned it off and scanned all of the many and varied controls on the dash board. "Can we launch rockets out this thing?"

"No rockets," Isaac said with a chuckle as he turned off of the ranch access road onto a paved street. "But it'll take a lot of bullets with no problem. Can't believe Jackson was willing to lend it to us."

Daryl accidentally turned on the stereo while he was trying to adjust the A/C. Metallica blared through the speakers, and he clicked the sound off. "Likes it loud."

"That's Jackson for you." Isaac sighed. "I hope he's ready to be in charge while we're gone, because I think Tex is going to be a mess until he's sure Tammy's all right. I hope she makes it."

"Seen people survive a lot worse," Daryl said. "Hell, one day, I tumbled down a rocky hill, got my head cut up, landed on my own damn arrow. Thing pierced right through me. Passed out, woke up, kicked a walker off my foot, pulled the arrow out my bloody flesh, stumbled my way back three miles, and _then_ got shot by a dumb ass chick who thought I's a walker. And I healed up just fine."

Isaac turned his head slowly and looked Daryl up and down. "I'm glad you're on our side."

Daryl glanced at the boy in the rear view mirror, who was utterly relaxed as he read, though strapped with four weapons. "Yeah, well, I'm glad all y'all's 'gainst the Saviors."

"A woman accidentally shot you? One of your own?"

"Yeah. Brought me a book later. Mystery novel or some shit. Like that was s'posed to make up for it." Daryl hadn't thought of Andrea in a long time. There were too many losses to spend much time thinking about each one.

"You forgive her?"

"Didn't have time to think 'bout it. World kept fallin' apart."

[*]

They hid the C.A.T van in the forest a mile and a half from the Sanctuary. Hugo tucked two pens and a notepad in the front pocket of his button-down shirt. He slid a pair of binoculars around his neck and then he reached into the van, under his seat, and pulled out Negan's bat. Isaac put a club on the steering wheel and locked the doors tight, and they surrounded the van with branches snapped off form trees. They all took the safeties off their guns before beginning the hike. Hugo swung the bat as he walked.

"What's he bringing that for?" Daryl asked.

"Tex said to bring it with us," Isaac said. "In case we need to prove Negan is dead for some reason. We can at least prove it to the Hilltop."

"Couldn't he of left it in the van?" Daryl asked. "What's he need it _now_ for?"

Isaac shrugged. "Boys will be boys." As they neared the Sanctuary, the gnashing of walkers greeted them, like bees buzzing around a hive. They crouched behind one of the Savior's trucks, which was parked on the outer perimeter, outside the chain link fence. "What the hell?" Isaac whispered as he looked with horror on all the chained walkers straining in the yard.

Daryl didn't bother to explain the Saviors' methods of torture. Instead, he took the binoculars off Hugo's neck. The kid raised an eyebrow but didn't try to stop him. Daryl silently surveyed the yard. Strangely, there were no prisoners being callously jerked about among the undead this afternoon. The yard was weirdly empty of humans, and no taunting task masters stood behind the fences. But there seemed to be far more walkers than usual.

Beside him, Hugo held Negan's baseball bat in a downward position and swung it mindlessly back and forth, back and forth. Daryl continued to survey they scene, but he didn't see a single living Savior anywhere. Instead, he saw walkers lurching all over the place, even staggering among the Saviors' motorcycles and making their way in and out of a wide open door in the building. When he caught sight of a pair of white angel wings on a black leather vest, he adjusted the focus on the binoculars.

"Holy shit," he muttered. It was Dwight, vacant eyed, his iron-burned cheek slipping more than usual, awkwardly lurching around, and chomping his jaws at empty air. He was a walker.

They were _all_ walkers.

The sound of nearing engines sent the trio ducking for cover beneath the truck. In his haste to hide, on the out-swing, Hugo accidentally dropped the baseball bat. It rolled across the asphalt toward the chain link fence.

"Fuck," Daryl muttered. That bat could give away their presence, but it was too late to recover the thing. Men were already spilling out of the trucks.


	12. Chapter 12

Four doors slammed. Daryl counted twelve pairs of feet as he lay on his stomach. One man leaned down and plucked up the baseball bat. "Well if this isn't a sign from above, gentlemen, I don't know what is it." The truck rattled as the baseball bat struck its side three times. "And Elisha took up the mantle of Elijah that fell from him," the man said in a booming voice. Daryl recognized the quote from the Bible. His nana used to insist on reading to him from the Old Testament, those two years she'd lived with them before she died. "And when the sons of the prophets saw him, they said, the spirit of Elijah doth rest on Elisha. And they bowed themselves to the ground before him!"

Eleven knees fell to the gravel of the parking lot.

"Pleased to have your loyalty, gentleman. Now get the fuck up! There's work to be done!"

The men stood. The boots moved on. A smattering of gunfire erupted, followed by a rattling of the chain link fence. A much quieter gnashing followed a second round of gunfire. The men must have cleared the walkers nearest the gate.

Four pairs of boots tread past Daryl again. The doors of the trucks opened and slammed shut, and the vehicles roared inside the Sanctuary. More gunfire erupted, but at more of a distance this time.

Hugo snatched the binoculars from Daryl's hand and scooted out from beneath the truck on his stomach, hands, and knees. Isaac and Daryl followed him. All three crouched down and peered over the hood of the truck, Hugo surveying the scene until his binoculars stilled in one spot, probably on the two men who were talking on the loading dock. One of them was a Savior Daryl had seen before, at the circle where Glenn and Abraham were beaten to death. Negan's bat rested against his shoulder.

Seven of the men were loading the trucks with goods from the Sanctuary, while another three were keeping watch and shooting walkers when they lurched too close to the loading docks. Daryl counted eight RPGs being place in the trucks, as well a bunch of guns, ammo, food, and other supplies. When the Saviors began to leave, Daryl, Isaac, and Hugo crawled under the truck again. Two of the Saviors did not drive through the gates, but strolled. A pair of black combat boots came to a stop a foot from Daryl's nose. A pair of brown hiking boots stopped before Issac's face.

"Check out this one," the man with the black boots said. Daryl recognized the voice. He was also the man who had picked up Negan's bat. "Probably has the shit from Green Acres."

A clanking-woosh sound filled the air as the back of the truck rolled up. "It's empty." Brown Boots jumped off the back of the truck and walked back around.

"Maybe Negan delayed the collection, gave them an extra few days to harvest their crops. We'll go collect from them when we're done with the Kingdom."

"Shouldn't there be at least three more trucks out here?" Brown Boots asked.

"How the hell would I know? I wasn't in charge of truck inventory for the Sanctuary."

"Want to take this one back with us?" Brown Boots slapped the side of the truck.

 _Shit,_ Daryl thought, and could see, based on the kid's wide eyes, that Hugo was thinking the same thing. If the Saviors drove off this truck, the three of them would either be run over or revealed.

"No, not empty. We'll use it to load up when we come back next week."

Daryl could feel Hugo's sigh of relief against his own cheek - a light puff of warm air.

"What about the motorcycles?" Brown Boots asked.

"Come back for them next week, too. We've got to focus on those Kingdom fuckers right now."

"Payback."

"Damn right. They're never going to know what hit them."

Their footsteps passed on, and truck doors opened and closed.

Daryl, Isaac, and Hugo lay in silence on their stomachs, waiting to make sure the Saviors were good and gone. They might have waited even longer if not for the approaching growling of walkers. One bent down and reached for Daryl, who crawled backwards to avoid it, only to find his ankle seized by another walker. He kicked, like a toddler throwing a tantrum on the floor, and felt his heel smash into the creature's head. The thing let go. Daryl rolled quickly onto his back and kicked it again, because it was still moving its head. That was when he saw several more undead hands, arms, and faces beginning to shove themselves beneath the truck.

The trio ended up shooting their way out. They crawled between the dead bodies of the walkers, stood, and headed for the gates, which the Saviors had left open. Many walkers lay shot and strewn across the Sanctuary, but some still stumbled about. Dwight was among the remaining lurchers.

Daryl strode through the gates, paced halfway across the courtyard, and sunk his knife into Dwight's brain. After yanking out the blade, he ripped his leather vest off the walker and let the body slump to the ground. When he slid the jacket onto himself, it felt like a second skin. He found his crossbow next, abandoned in the grass just beyond the gravel, and plucked it up. He swung it over his shoulder and instantly felt less naked. The sound of two gunshots sent him ducking, and he turned to see that Hugo had taken out two nearby walkers with his pistol. "Thanks, kid."

Hugo shook his head as if to say he thought Daryl was an idiot for collecting things among the wandering walkers.

"This was my shit," he explained, looking directly at the kid, so the boy could read his lips. "Needed it back."

Hugo shook his head again.

By now Isaac had caught up with them. "Could you read their lips?" he asked Hugo. "The two who were talking?"

Hugo nodded. He pulled out his notepad and scribbled quickly on it.

Daryl came closer so he could also read what the boy had written: _Tell u later. Need 2 check cells_. _They decided not 2 bother checking on prisoners._

A few walkers with letter-emblazoned sweatshirts roamed about, but the prisoners might not have all been on yard duty. If any of them were locked in the cells when this turn happened, they might still be alive. "Good idea," Daryl said.

They made their way inside the Sanctuary, shooting walkers as they crept down the dim hallways. Daryl's crossbow worked well. At least Dwight had maintained it. The thing even seemed to have new strings.

Hugo lit the way with a flashlight, leaving the men to do the killing, though he held his pistol at his side in his left hand. Along the way, they passed the room where Negan had kept his harem. Daryl looked through the narrow window in the door. The women lurched about behind the locked door in their pretty dresses, with pearls and fine pendants resting on the slipping flesh of their necks. They were all turned. None appeared to have been shot. Now that he thought about it, Dwight didn't seem to have been shot or stabbed either. "Christ," he muttered. "How'd all these people die?"

Hugo tugged on his sleeve. Daryl followed him down the hall, crossbow poised.

Several of the cell doors were already popped open. Only three were closed. Isaac pounded on each one, shouting, "Anyone alive in there? The Saviors are dead. We aren't going to hurt you. We want to help you" He received no response until he reached the last one, where a timid cry of "Help!" arose. "Stay back from the door," Isaac ordered before leveling his rifle at the knob. "Are you back?"

"Yes," came the feminine voice, a little louder now.

Isaac shot through the lock. Daryl's boot struck the weakened door, and it thrust open, slamming against the inside of the cell. Hugo's light swept the dark room and landed on the backside of a naked woman. Daryl had never seen her before. Her skin was young and smooth, though blackened in places from the dirt of the cell. Her long, red, tangled hair reached down and formed a point just above her bare ass. She stood quaking in the corner, her front side pressed against the wall to hide her nakedness, her head slightly turned. She couldn't be more than eighteen.

Isaac and Daryl ran back to one of the freshly fallen walkers, stripped it of its clothes, and brought them to the woman. When they got to the door, they found Hugo staring at her, her bare skin illuminated by the beam of his flashlight. The young teenage boy's mouth was slightly agape, as though he'd never seen a naked woman before. He probably hadn't, at least not in the flesh. Daryl thrust him out of the way. "Shut that damn light off!" Hugo clicked the flashlight off as Daryl tossed the clothes at the young woman's feet and turned his back to the door to block it while she dressed.

"I'm done," she said, her voice shaky.

Daryl turned around and saw that she'd rolled up and over the legs of the pants three times and that the sleeves of the shirt covered her hands. "C'mon!" he ordered. The young woman hesitated.

Isaac eased past Daryl in the doorway, and, in a more gentle voice, said, "We're taking you to a nice place. A farm. You'll have a bath and fresh food and new clothes and no one will hurt you. The Saviors are our enemy, too."

She cast her eyes to the ground shyly but followed Isaac. Hugo led the way with his flashlight while Isaac stood comfortingly beside the young woman and Daryl took up the rear.

"What's your name?" Isaac asked.

"Hope," she said, her voice cracking on the word, as though she felt the name was now a lie.

When they exited the sanctuary, they shut the door to keep the walkers inside. "Need to get my bike."

Hugo shook his head.

"It'll be quicker to ride back to the van anyhow," Daryl insisted.

They made their way back to where the motorcycles were parked. Daryl craned his neck and surveyed the bikes until he had found his own. Isaac took a second motorcycle and told Hope to hop on behind him. "You take Hugo," he told Daryl.

The young woman slid wordlessly onto the bike behind Isaac and wrapped her arms around him. Hugo did the same on Daryl's bike, except that he kept his hands on his knees. They roared through the open gates of the Sanctuary, a handful of walkers lurching desperately after their quickly escaping flesh.


	13. Chapter 13

When they were all dismounted and standing behind the C.A.T. van in the woods, Hugo took out the notepad and a pen from his shirt pocket and began scribbling frantically. He wrote on two small pages, ripped them off, and handed them to Isaac. Daryl read the message over Isaac's shoulder:

 _Man who took bat - Simon - thinks Saviors ate pigs seized from Kingdom that made them sick. Many died. Turned & attacked the others in their sleep. Entire Sanctuary wiped out._

"This is the way the world ends," Isaac said. "This is the way the world ends. _This_ is the way the world ends: not with a bang, but a whimper."

"What?" Daryl asked.

"T.S. Eliot," Isaac replied. "I take it you don't like poetry?"

"Liked Dr. Seuss when I's a kid." Daryl's raw tone of sarcasm masked his feelings of stupidity.

"This so-called Kingdom took out the entire Sanctuary without firing a single shot." Isaac smiled. "Fucking brilliant. Biological warfare. Why didn't _we_ think of that? We could have sent them home with diseased pigs and cows. Of course, Negan threatened to take three wives with him, too. Tex wouldn't have stood for that."

At this Hope looked straight at the ground.

"Is that what you were supposed to be?" Isaac asked. "One of Negan's wives?"

She nodded.

"Jesus. How old are you?"

"Eighteen. I wouldn't agree to marry him. So they put me in that cell. Because Negan says..." She made a dry, angry scoffing sound, "He doesn't want anyone who's not _willing_."

"Negan's dead," Isaac reassured her.

Hugo tapped the paper anxiously and made a rolling motion with his finger to indicate Isaac should keep reading. Isaac slid the first page behind the second, and Daryl peered over his shoulder once again:

 _Simon thinks Negan died outside Sanctuary gates & wandered off as a walker b/c he found the bat. 2 outposts combining at Mt. Vernon. Force of 80 men plan to attack & destroy the Kingdom Saturday._

Issac folded up the note and handed it back to Hugo. "Good work, little man. Take this to Tex. And take Hope with you."

Hugo nodded. He saddled the motorcycle and turned back to look at Hope. She looked cautiously at the seat of the bike.

"He can't talk," Isaac warned her. "But he'll get you back to our ranch. They'll fix you up."

"I can't be fixed," she said. "But I wouldn't mind a bath and a meal." She sat behind the teenager. Maybe it helped that Hugo was a few years younger than her. Not that Hugo couldn't kill her in a heart beat if he wanted to, but she wrapped her arms around his waist as he roared off.

Daryl watched the motorcycle tear out of the forest and up onto the road. "Kid knows how to ride, too?" Rick hadn't even taught Carl to drive a car yet, he didn't think. He probably should have by now. In this world, being able to make a getaway was just as important as stabbing and shooting.

"He taught himself in the underground garage of the library where he used to live. He used a motorcycle when he went on supply runs."

"We's still goin' to the Hilltop?"

Isaac nodded.

Daryl loaded his motorcycle in the back of the van and took the front passenger's seat again. As Isaac took the club off the wheel, Daryl said, "What if we'd needed to make a quick getaway?"

"What if someone had found the van and tried to steal it? Sometimes you can't plan for every contingency."

Daryl shook his head as the van emerged back onto the road.

"Do you think this Hilltop knows where the Kingdom is?" Isaac asked.

"Think Jesus knows where everything is."

"Well, he _is_ the Son of God."

"Meant a guy from the Hilltop."

"I think that's pronounced _HEH-soos_ ," Isaac said indulgently.

"He ain't a spic. Just goes by the name of Jesus."

"A _spic_?" Isaac asked.

"What? We got to be P.C. in the apocalypse? I ain't got nothin' 'gainst spics. We got a bad ass one at Alexandria. Trust Rosita to have my back any day."

Isaac laughed. "Funny how irrelevant race becomes in the end times."

"Weren't ever relevant."

"Easy for a white man to say." Isaac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "If this so-called Jesus can draw us each a map, I'll take the antibiotic and van back to Green Acres, while you ride your motorcycle on to the Kingdom and warn them of Saturday's attack. Let them know we're on our way from Green Acres with men to help them fight. We won't send everyone. We won't leave the ranch defenseless, just in case they change plans and come to collect from us first, but we _will_ send a fighting party."

"After I warn 'em," Daryl said, "Gonna go on to Alexandria. Get more fighters. Bring 'em back to the Kingdom."

He thought Rick would be willing to fight, if he knew the ranks of the Saviors had already been cut in more than half and that Alexandria now had allies. He felt sure Sasha, Michonne, Rosita, and Tara would fight. Aaron, too, most likely, though Eric would beg him not to risk himself. Daryl was less certain of Carol's willingness. There was no question she was _capable,_ but she'd been acting strangely domestic lately, playing house with Tobin, and he wasn't even sure where she _was._ He'd seen Tobin, but Carol wasn't with the man, when Negan took him to collect. Eugene would be useless in a war. Father Gabriel should be left behind to watch Judith and rally the spirits of the Alexandrians. But Daryl might be able to get a few of the other men to fight.

"Sure I can recruit at least ten good fighters," he told Isaac. "If you can just arm 'em - "

"- We will. And we'll defeat these bastards together."

"See why yer Tex's right hand man," Daryl said.

"I have my uses."

Daryl glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the thick book laying open on the seat. "Hope the kid don't miss his book."

"He's got bookmarks in at least three others back at the ranch."

Daryl had been pissed off when the kid foolishly dropped Negan's bat. He'd thought they might be discovered and it all might end because of that one mistake. But now a thought occurred to him. "Ya think Hugo _knew_ what he was doin' when he dropped that damn bat? Think he saw those men was Saviors? Thought they might think Negan was already back at the Sanctuary if they found it?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Isaac said. "Hugo's mind works in mysterious ways." He pulled onto a two-lane highway, where the open road wound its promising way to the Hilltop.

[*]

Daryl directed Isaac to turn left, which put them on a dirt road. "Hilltop's 'bout a mile up this way."

"You do the talking when we get out. They don't know me from Adam."

"Just so ya know, I ain't exactly pals with 'em neither. Know Jesus, kind of, and he don't like me that much. Met the leader, Gregory, but he don't like me a'tall. Man's a complete jagoff. And their folks ain't fighters."

"Then at least they won't open fire when we show up."

The van slowed to a crunching stop at the gates of the Hilltop.

Isaac jumped out of the van with his hands up to show he meant no harm. Daryl got out and sauntered to the gate. He looked up at the watch platform and saw a woman standing there. "Come to see Jesus," he called up, and only after he spoke did he recognize the face. "Maggie?" he shouted. "Yer alive?"

Maggie leaned forward, peered closer, and scrutinized his face. It probably took her a moment to recognize him with the short hair and clean clothes.

Without a word, she disappeared from the platform. Daryl's heart dropped into his stomach. Maggie must hate him. His must be the last face on earth she would ever want to see. He'd lost his temper, hit Negan, and that had caused Negan to kill Glenn. He'd made that baby in Maggie's womb – assuming it was still alive – fatherless. She had to wish he was still rotting in that cell.

The gate swung slowly open. Maggie ran straight toward him. Daryl braced himself to be slapped across the face, or to have his chest pounded on with closed fists, to be yelled at - whatever it was she felt she had to do. He would take the blows without resistance.

But there was no slap. No scream. Maggie threw her arms around him in a warm embrace. "Daryl!" she cried. "You're alive! You escaped!"

Stunned, he stood utterly still, saying nothing, until a powerful feeling of relief and gratitude ripped up from the depths of his being and some animal noise – not quite a choke, not quite a sob – broke free from his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and sputtered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."

She pulled away from him, one hand still on his shoulder. "Look at me," she ordered, in that no-nonsense voice she got when she was irritated.

He had to force himself to raise his eyes to her.

"It's not your fault." Maggie's unflinching eyes searched his. "What happened to Glenn, it's not your fault. Negan would have found some other excuse. The man's a sadist, and he would have found some other reason. He did it to torture you, to torture me, to break Rick. He didn't do it because you were human and got angry when Rosita cried. And God knows how many times you kept Glenn alive over the years, by fighting for us and by hunting for us and feeding us. Don't think I don't know how important you've been to the survival of this group. You kept him alive and gave me more time with him."

Daryl's eyes had fallen again. Maggie put a finger under his chin and forced it up so he had to look at her. "Do you hear me, Daryl? You didn't kill him. It's _not_ your fault. Do you _hear_ me?"

Daryl swallowed, nodded, and stepped back from her touch. His eyes flitted down to her stomach. "The baby…"

"The baby's fine."

He let out a long sigh. When he returned his eyes to her face, over her shoulder, he saw Sasha walking out the gates. Her footsteps slowed. She was looking at Isaac at first, but then her eyes turned to Daryl, and a smile grew across her face. She jogged over and hugged him. He hugged back, forgetting his old wounds, forgetting he didn't like to be touched, not considering what a strange thing this was for him, to be hugged by two women in a single day. This was his family, after all. These were his sisters.

"You're alive!" Sasha said when he pulled away. Her eyes scoured his body, like a mother searching for wounds. "Did they torture you?"

"Don't matter no more."

Enid was approaching now. What the hell was she doing here? The girl smiled. She looked a lot less like a bitchy little brat when she smiled. Daryl wasn't sure he'd ever even had a conversation with her, but even _Enid_ threw her arms around him. Hesitantly and awkwardly, he patted her back, like you might a good little dog, before he stepped away.

Isaac took a step forward off the sidelines and looked from woman to woman to girl. "I thought you said no one liked you here."


	14. Chapter 14

While Isaac met with Gregory inside the colonial house, Daryl waited on the porch with Sasha and Maggie. He told them about Negan dragging him to Green Acres to collect and the snipers taking out the entire collection party.

"I wish Rick had been willing to do something like that," Sasha said.

Daryl felt that defensive instinct that often clawed up inside him whenever anyone questioned Rick's leadership. He'd only truly resented the man's choices once, when Rick had banished Carol, and even then, as angry as he was, Daryl could at least see Rick's point of view. Maybe it was because he'd spent so many years following Merle that he was grateful to be following a man like Rick. Even when he was wrong, Rick was at least wrong for good reasons. "We was outnumberd. He's got a baby girl. We don't have that many expert marksmen. Cain't blame 'em, really, for tryin' to find a way to live. Reckon he thought if we tried that, rest of 'em Saviors would come down on Alexandria, kill every one of 'em, burn it to the ground. And he's probably right, too."

"But Green Acres wasn't afraid of that?" Maggie asked.

"They didn't know how many of 'em there was. When I told 'em, they's a little taken aback. But they got ready for a defensive battle anyhow. Never came." He told them about their scouting trip to the Sanctuary.

"So they poisoned the pigs?" Sasha asked.

"Seems like," Daryl said.

"Genius." Sasha shook her head. "I'm starting to feel like we don't do a lot of planning."

"Yeah, well, that's gonna change," Daryl said.

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. "Why? You taking control from Rick?"

"Hell no! But we's _all_ gonna work with Green Acres and the Kingdom now. We's gonna _end_ this thing."

Maggie gritted her teeth. " _I_ wanted to be the one to kill Negan."

"You and about a dozen other people," Sasha said.

Daryl leaned back against the porch rail. "Man who _did_ kill him? Negan beat his only son to death. Tex shot that bastard right 'tween the eyes, in the middle of one of his fuckin' speeches, too. Then Tex's wife Tammy took Negan's own bat and beat his brains out with it."

"I already like these people," Sasha said.

"Did it make her feel better?" Maggie asked.

"For a little while," Daryl said. "Ain't nothin' gonna make any of us feel better 'cept time."

"And we can't have time without peace," Sasha reasoned. "And we can't have peace without war."

Jesus climbed up the porch steps and extended his hand to Daryl. "Good to see you alive. Did you escape?" Daryl looked cautiously at his outstretched hand but shook.

Maggie filled Jesus in on everything.

"Well, Gregory's not going to agree to fight against the Kingdom," Jesus said. "But _I'll_ join you. And I think I know two or three other Hilltop men who will, too, if Green Acres can arm us."

"We can." Isaac closed the door of the colonial house behind himself and took three steps across the porch toward the small group. His rifle was on one shoulder and a bag of medical supplies was slung over the other. "I'm Isaac." He held out his hand to Jesus, who shook it. Isaac turned to Maggie. "And you're Maggie, right?"

She nodded and shook his hand.

Isaac smiled at Sasha. "I don't think we were formally introduced earlier."

Sasha held out her hand and said her name. Isaac bent his head, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed the back of it.

Sasha rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away. "No time for that suave shit. And I recently buried my boyfriend. So mostly what I'm interested in right now is how good a shot you are."

"Better than you."

"I don't know about that," she said.

"He is," Daryl told her. Sasha turned her eyes languidly on him. "Marine sniper," Daryl explained.

Sasha looked back at Isaac. "My dad was a Marine."

Isaac waved his hand back and forth between them and grinned. "So we already have a connection then."

"I hated my dad. He was a stern asshole."

"I'm friendly."

"So I can see. Now are we going to cut the bullshit and talk shop?"

"After you," Isaac said, and extended a hand in the direction of the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Sasha asked.

"To my van. So I can give you a sleek dark, rifle to match those beautiful eyes."

Sasha chuckled as she made her way down the stairs.

Once they were back at the van, Isaac armed Sasha and Jesus each with a rifle. He was extending one to Maggie when Daryl grabbed it. "She ain't fightin'. Got a bun in the oven."

Maggie jerked the rifle out of Daryl's hand. "I _have_ to kill some of these assholes."

"No," Sasha insisted. "You don't. You need to stay here where you and the baby are safe. You wouldn't forgive yourself if anything happened to it."

Maggie got that determined look in her eyes, like a fierce teddy bear. It always made Daryl want to laugh, but he was never laughing once the bullets started flying. "But I _want_ to help," Maggie insisted. "I want to do _something_ other than just sitting around the Hilltop."

"Then why don't you come with me to Green Acres," Isaac suggested. "I have to bring back this antibiotic right away." He glanced at Sasha. "Both of you should come. You can meet our leader Tex and bring him back with you to Alexandria to meet your leader and discuss an alliance."

"I can do that," Maggie said.

"But then ya stay in Alexandria," Daryl insisted. "Or the Hilltop. Anywheres but the Kingdom." After Maggie nodded, Daryl continued, "I'll meet y'all back in Alexandria, soon as I warn them Kingdom, so's we can gather an army. A unit anyhow."

Isaac rummaged in the van and handed Jesus another two rifles and a handgun. He set a cardboard box full of 9 mm, .22, and .45 on the ground at his feet. "For whoever else you can recruit."

"And you'll still have guns to give the Alexandrians?" Sasha asked.

"Sure."

Jesus leaned the rifles against the back of the van and wedged the handgun in his waistband. "How many guns do you people _have_?"

"Three for every man, woman, and child on our ranch."

Jesus shook his head. "Well, thank you. This is worth a lot more than whatever Gregory gave you."

Isaac patted the medical bag. "This could be worth a special woman's life."

"Yours?" Jesus asked.

Isaac laughed. "No, not mine." He looked at Sasha. "I'm entirely available."

Sasha rolled her eyes and began inspecting her rifle.

"I promised your leader a twenty-year-old bottle of 100-point wine, too," Isaac told Jesus.

"Gregory loves his fine alcohol."

Isaac glanced back toward the colonial house. "You're willing to fight. Why aren't you in charge here instead of him?"

Jesus shrugged. "I don't want that responsibility."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, you've _got_ it, because from here on out, I'm going to be communicating through you, not through him. He's a useless piece of shit."

"Got that right," muttered Sasha, slinging the rifle over her shoulder.

While Jesus drew Isaac a map to the Kingdom, Maggie nodded to Daryl's motorcycle in the van. "You got all your babies back. The jacket and the crossbow, too."

"Yeah." All his babies. Everything he'd lost. Well, not _everything_. "Where's Carol anyhow? She here, too? She weren't in Alexandria when Negan took me to collect."

"Rick said she left," Sasha told him.

"What do ya mean – _left_?"

"She left Tobin a Dear John note and just took off," Sasha explained. "Said she didn't want to keep killing people, and she knew she'd always kill for those she loved, so she needed to be alone."

"Alone? She's out there alone!"

"Rick sent Morgan after her," Maggie said.

"Morgan! That dumb ass peacenick who roughed her up to keep her from doin' what had to be done? Why the hell not me?"

"You were out gunning for Dwight," Sasha reminded him.

Daryl pounded the back of the van with his fist, once, hard.

"I'm sure she'll be all right, Daryl," Maggie assured him. "She's been on her own before." When Rick had banished her. "This is _Carol_ we're talking about."

"Who's Carol?" Isaac asked.

"Biggest bad ass you'll ever meet," Sasha told him. "Though you wouldn't know it to look at her."

"Why would she just leave like that?" Daryl asked. "Without sayin' nothin'? To no one!" Except to that sniveling pansy Tobin.

"I don't know." Maggie shook her head. "We've all been through a lot. She's got to deal with it the way she's got to deal with it."

Daryl paced away from the van and then paced back when he had more control of himself. "Got to get goin'."

He started to pull his motorcycle out of the van, but Jesus put a hand on his wrist to stop him. "Might be easier if we take a car and I go with you to the Kingdom, seeing as I know King Ezekiel."

Daryl rolled his bike back in the van. " _King_ Ezekiel?"

Jesus nodded.

"Their leader some kind of fruit cake? Thinks he's a king?"

"He puts on a show for his people," Jesus told him. "They like the show. It makes them feel safe."

Daryl shook his head but he agreed to let Jesus come with him. "Watch my bike," he commanded Isaac.

"We'll store it at the ranch," Isaac assured him.

"Don't ride it. Don't even _touch_ it."

"I've got to touch it to take it out." Isaac chuckled, shook his head, and shut the doors to the van.


	15. Chapter 15

The gates of the Kingdom rolled open and Jesus drove the sedan inside. The place appeared to be a re-purposed high school, and there were a lot of people roaming around. When they got out of the car, Jesus didn't take a weapon, but Daryl did. However, a rough looking man in a black flak vest approached them and asked him to surrender his weapons "for the duration of his stay."

"Nah. I ain't given up shit for no one."

"Then you can turn around and exit the premises," the man said.

"Richard, let me talk to him for a minute." Jesus turned to Daryl and held up his hand. "I trust these people. They're good. They're safe. You yourself said they wiped out the Sanctuary with that pig meat."

"It worked!" Richard exclaimed. "My plan _worked_?"

Daryl peered at the man through narrow eyes. "How'd ya poison the pigs?"

"Fed them walkers."

"Damn," muttered Daryl, impressed. It made sense. They avoided eaten deer that had been bitten, after all. They wouldn't even cut off the infected part and eat around it. And pigs would eat _anything_. Daryl reached into his holster and handed Richard his handgun, butt first.

"Your knives and crossbow, too," Richard said.

"Ya know, Green Acres don't do this," Daryl told him. "They figure if everyone's armed, ain't no visitors gonna pull no shit no how."

"What is Green Acres?" asked Richard, looking at Jesus.

"That's what we're here to talk about."

[*]

Maggie looked at the sweeping, cursive lettering on the cast iron gates - _Green Acres Ranch -_ as Isaac drove the C.A.T. van inside. "Is this place named after the T.V. show?"

"I think it's a play on that," he answered, "but they also named it Green Acres because it operates on green energy. We still have running water and electricity."

"We do in Alexandria, too," Sasha said from the back seat. "It was a planned green community."

Isaac turned off the engine outside some makeshift barricades. "But we have horse and cattle and pigs and chickens and goats. An orchard and crops. A green house. Fields. We grow tomatoes, green beans, peas, corn, squash, peppers, potatoes, strawberries, apples, plums, peaches - "

"Then you win," said Sasha drolly. "If it's a competition."

Isaac smiled.

When they got out, a svelte man with curly brown hair and a pair of gorgeous, hazel eyes approached them. Maggie was bothered that she noticed he was attractive. When Glenn was alive, she wasn't entirely oblivious of other men. She thought Rick was classically good-looking, and that Daryl's arms were beautifully muscular. Noticing those sorts of things had never bothered her before, because Glenn was hers and her love for him was indisputable. But it seemed wrong to notice such things _now_ , a kind of disloyalty, an insult to his memory. She shouldn't be thinking this man here was good-looking, or, as she had yesterday, that Jesus had a cute smile and a handsome face. Maggie felt like her mourning should have deadened every natural sexual instinct, but it hadn't. It was almost as if her senses had been heightened these past few weeks. She was always on edge now, about everything, ready for a fight, aware of every warning sign, but also more acutely aware of everything good and beautiful. Smells were more pungent, tastes were bolder, and both pain and pleasure were stronger.

Jackson smiled from woman to woman. "Where'd you pick _them_ up?"

"Down at the bar," Isaac replied.

"He picked us up at the Hilltop," Sasha told him. "But we're from Alexandria."

Isaac made the introductions: "This is Jackson, the former Secret Service C.A.T. guy I told you about. Jackson, this is Sasha and Maggie."

Jackson shook their hands. Maggie was a little surprised that he gripped hers with the same indifferent force he probably would a man's. Jackson turned his attention to Isaac. "Hugo told us what happened. We got that girl you rescued settled in, put her in a room with the old folk, think she'll feel safer there. She's pretty jumpy." He jerked his head toward Maggie and Sasha. "But if they're here to talk to Tex, now's not a good time."

"Why? Where is he?" Isaac patted the bag of medicines. "I've got the antibiotic for Tammy."

Jackson swallowed hard. He ran a hand across his mouth and then rested it on his right hip. "He's burying Tammy."

"What?" Isaac shouted. "How the hell...but it's only been a few hours! She couldn't have gotten an infection already - how in - "

"- She suffered internal bleeding, apparently. It just couldn't be stopped. Doc's good, but we don't have a modern hospital here."

"Oh fuck!" Isaac ran a hand over his bald head. He paced a little. "How bad off is Tex?"

"He's not in in good shape," Jackson warned. "At first he was blaming himself. Now he's blaming the Saviors for making it necessary for anyone to be in that blind in the first place. He's talking about attacking Mount Vernon tomorrow morning and killing all the Saviors slowly."

"That's not a good plan," Isaac said. "Daryl is already headed to the Kingdom. He's going to promise them our fighters. We need to ban together with the Kingdom and Alexandria, consolidate and prepare our forces while the Saviors are busy planning their own attack. They won't be on the roads or out collecting. This is the time to travel and form alliances, to move armaments, to get our bombs and traps in place - not to run off half-cocked into the lion's den."

"Well, maybe you can convince him. Because he is _gunning_ for these bastards. But I'd wait until after the funeral to bring it up. Starts in half an hour." Jackson's lips twitched into a wince of smile at Sasha and Maggie. "Welcome to Green Acres, ladies. Wish we could greet you under better circumstances."

[*]

Daryl and Jesus were taken to the school theater for an "audience" with "the king." Richard was already in the theater, having gone ahead to inform King Ezekiel of their presence. Another so-called "knight of the Kingdom" ushered them inside.

Daryl was strolling confidently into the theater beside Jesus until he saw the tiger on stage. His foot froze in place in the aisle. "What the fuck?"

The tiger roared, and Daryl took a step back and bumped into the knight, who cleared his throat. Daryl stepped forward again.

The gray-haired, dreadlocked black man sitting on the stage in a large chair – his throne, Daryl supposed - petted the thing's head. _Petted it_ , and then said, "Sit, Shiva," which the damn tiger actually _did_.

Daryl looked at Jesus, who shrugged. He followed Jesus to stand before the King, who leveled his gaze on Daryl. Daryl expected a "king's" gaze to be fierce, but the man's eyes were twinkling with merriment. "We have heard you come as a herald from a far-off land, bringing glad tidings." King Ezekiel raised his hand in a dramatic gesture. "So speak, herald! Let us hear thy delightful news."

"Don't know what this shit is 'bout." Daryl waved a hand across the stage."And I ain't no fuckin' herald, but ya oughta know the Saviors is plannin' to attack this place on Saturday. Force of eighty men. Gonna light some shit on fire."

King Ezekiel rose. His tone shifted and he dropped the royal we's and the thy's. He looked directly at Richard. "I told you I didn't want war!"

Richard huffed. "I just killed a hundred Saviors without firing a shot!" He pointed to Daryl. "This Green Acres place this man comes from? They took down over twenty with snipers. And you're _still_ not ready to fight?"

"Don't matter if ya's ready," Daryl said. "Fight's comin'. Better get ready."

King Ezekiel paced the stage. He rubbed his chin and shook his head. "My people don't even know the Saviors exist."

"Well that's a problem," Daryl said. "Ain't my business how ya run yer…uh… _kingdom_ , but maybe it's time they found out. 'Cause they gonna have to fight 'em Saturday. Now Green Acres, they's gonna send you a party of armed fightin' men, all good shots. And me, I'm goin' back to Alexandria, where I's from. Bring even more men."

"And I'll bring three fighters from the Hilltop," Jesus said.

"We haven't asked for your help," King Ezekiel said.

"They're offering fire power!" Richard's voice projected through the theater. "Fighters! Why _wouldn't_ we take them up on the offer?"

"This is _our_ war that we drew upon _ourselves_ through _your_ actions," King Ezekiel told him. "No one else should have to pay the blood price for that."

"They _want_ to fight with us!" Richard exclaimed.

"We got a common enemy," Daryl said. "We want 'em gone as much as you do."

"More, apparently," Richard spat. "And don't you want to defend the people here? The time for appeasement is over! You can't buy your way out of this!"

King Ezekiel took in a heavy breath. "When can these men from Alexandria and Green Acres be here?"

It was almost dinner time, and Daryl wanted to see more of the Kingdom so that he had something to tell Rick about their new allies. "Go to Alexandria tomorrow mornin'," Daryl said. "Be back here by evenin' with our men. Green Acres probably send their men 'bout the same time. Give us all a full day to plan 'fore they attack."

"And if you can lend us another vehicle," Jesus said, "I'll return to the Hilltop and get our few fighters. I can have them back by tomorrow evening, too."

King Ezekiel nodded. "Very well. Tonight, then, you shall be our most honored guests."

Daryl looked warily at the tiger. "What ya feed that thing?"

"Though Shiva deserves the very best, and I would love to bestow upon her the vast riches of varied animal meats, I can afford only to feed her the festering carcasses of the undead."

"And that don't kill it, like it killed the Saviors?" Daryl asked.

"Animals are only carriers," Richard told him. "They don't ever have symptoms of the disease, and it doesn't kill them. You've never seen one turn, have you?"

Daryl shook his head and made a note not to hunt any carnivores. So far, they'd only eaten deer, duck, dove, owl, and squirrel. Well...they'd had a few possum over the many months, and those things were scavengers. A possum might feast on the dead bodies of the undead, if it ever happened upon one. They were lucky they hadn't gotten sick from eating possum. He'd have to take those little scavengers off the menu too.

"Jonathan," King Ezekiel said to the knight. "Do show our welcome guests the environs of the Kingdom."

"This way," the knight replied.

Daryl threw one last suspicious glance at the tiger before following the man out the theater.


	16. Chapter 16

Maggie stood on the periphery of the funeral and counted the people. She counted their weapons, too. Sasha seemed to be making similar observations. Tex was lean, with piercing blue eyes and thick, blonde hair that spilled out in curly locks from beneath his cowboy hat. Isaac flanked him on his right and Jackson on his left.

Despite the large number of people who spoke, Tex himself didn't give a eulogy. He kept his head bent to the ground throughout most of the funeral. When he threw the last, ceremonial shovel of dirt on his wife's grave, he broke down, fell on his knees, and wept, the way Maggie had at Glenn's grave for the first three nights after they covered his mangled face in the earth of the Hilltop. Everyone just left Tex alone at the grave. Maggie wished they'd done that with her - given her that empty, private space in which to grieve - but Jesus had remained by her side, refusing to leave until she went inside the house. Sasha had remained, too, but whether that was for her or for Abraham, Maggie didn't know.

While Tex grieved, Isaac led Maggie and Sasha to the back porch of the main house. There, he spoke with Jackson and a man named Malik. Malik was attractive in an intimidating, masculine, swarthy, brooding sort of way - and _why_ Maggie was noticing all these men, she didn't know. Maybe it had something to do with her pregnancy hormones. She'd heard there was a strange, horny kick in the second trimester. Glenn had been looking forward to it.

Malik asked, "Who is in charge if Tex becomes...inoperable?"

"Inoperable," Jackson echoed. "I don't think that's the word you're looking for. But I am."

"No, _I_ am," Isaac said. "I'm his right-hand man."

"I've been with him four months longer than you have," Jackson insisted. "I found this place just a month after Tex and Tammy cleared it."

"But he turns to me when - " Isaac stopped mid-sentence and nodded. Tex was approaching the stairs to the porch, his eyes on the tips of his snakeskin cowboy boots, his mind somewhere far away. By the time he'd mounted the stairs, however, his head was raised. He leaned back against the porch rail, took off his brown cowboy hat, and tossed it onto a small end table by a rocking chair where it landed, half on, half off. He looked at Maggie and Sasha. "Who are these people?"

Isaac told him. He also told Tex he'd promised to send men to fight for the Kingdom.

"No. We're attacking Mount Vernon tomorrow. Twenty armed men, including _all_ seven of our snipers." Tex bit down and spoke between clenched teeth. "Six, I mean. We're going to kill these motherfuckers, every last one of 'em."

"There's no way we can kill eighty to a hundred fighters all _by ourselves,"_ Isaac insisted _._ "They've probably secured the place and have a watch, maybe booby traps. We don't know precisely where in Mount Vernon their forces are. But when they attack the Kingdom, all of their fighters will be exposed. They'll stumble into _our_ traps. We'll have the defensive advantage _an_ d allies. Jesus says the Kingdom has at least a dozen strong fighters, maybe ten more moderate ones."

" _Jesus_?" Malik asked.

"That's just the name of a guy there," Isaac explained. "Daryl's promised to bring eight to ten strong fighters from Alexandria, and Jesus is bringing three or four from the Hilltop. Add our men...and we've got a serious force. The Saviors will go marching in there like peacocks, feathers blaring, expecting an easy victory against a weak force, and we'll take them by surprise."

"I agree with him," Malik said.

"So do I," Jackson said.

Tex shook his head. "No. I don't want to stand around twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Saturday. I want these fuckers gone tomorrow! They're the reason my wife and son are dead!"

"Tammy is dead because a tree collapsed," Malik said. "I agree these men must be dispensed with, but - "

"Tomorrow!" Tex shouted.

"Could I talk to you privately?" Maggie asked him.

Tex jerked his head toward her. "Why? I don't know you."

"Just for a moment. Please."

Tex narrowed his eyes at her, but he now looked more curious than angry. He nodded to his men, and they dispersed from the porch. Sasha, throwing Maggie a wary glance, followed the men down the stairs.

Maggie stood with her arms crossed over her chest and waited for the others to be out of ear shot.

"What?" Tex asked, his voice thick and angry.

"Not long ago, I was on my knees before Negan, and I had to _watch_ while he beat my husband to death." Maggie steadied her voice, but her eyes were fierce with angry determination. "Glenn was a _good_ man. One of the best men I've ever known. And now he's gone. And his child," she put a hand on her stomach, "will be born fatherless. I want revenge more than anything in the world. Those Saviors stood by and silently cheered while that sadist beat the man I loved to death. Negan beat the man Sasha loved to death, too, and one of his men shot our doctor in the eye. They imprisoned my friend Daryl and tortured him. So trust me when I say I understand where you're coming from. _I_ want revenge. _You_ want revenge. But _we_ can't have revenge if we don't _win_."

Tex's cobalt-blue eyes bore into hers. "And you're _sure_ we'll win if we join the Kingdom?"

"I'm sure it's our best chance of winning," Maggie answered. "I didn't know your wife, but it sounds like she was a smart and capable woman."

"She is. Was."

"What would _she_ want you to do in this situation?"

Tex swallowed. He looked across the fields, to the far end of the ranch, and sighed. He rested a hand casually on the butt of the silver revolver in his holster before turning his eyes back to her.

"I can take you to Alexandria first thing in the morning," Maggie told him. "You can meet Rick, the leader of my people. _Together,_ our people can fight this war."

Tex looked down at the planks of the porch. He nodded slowly. "I'll send a unit to the Kingdom in the morning, and then I'll go with you to Alexandria. If you can raise a force, I'll arm it. And then I'll accompany your force to the Kingdom to meet up with mine."

Maggie nodded. "You're making the right choice."

"I damn well better be."

[*]

Daryl was given a tour of the Kingdom. He met some of the knights who would be leading the defense of the Kingdom in the battle to come. He and Jesus were fed dinner in the cafeteria. The food was bland – some kind of porridge and fruit cocktail, nothing like the meals he'd savored at Green Acres, or the muffins and casseroles Carol had baked in Alexandria. He was sitting at a table across from Jesus and next to one of the knights, looking around the people at the cafeteria, and trying to count how many looked like potential fighters, besides the knights themselves, when he saw Morgan enter the cafeteria line.

Daryl dropped the hard roll he'd been chewing on, stood abruptly, and made his way over to the line. "Morgan."

The man turned, tray in hand. "Daryl. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Could ask the same of you. Ya find Carol?"

Morgan looked around, like he always did when he didn't want to answer a man. "Come with me."

Daryl followed him out of the cafeteria door to a picnic table where Morgan set down his tray. "I _did_ find her," he said. "And she's safe."

"Where is she?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Fuck ya mean, ya cain't tell me that!"

"She asked me not to. She wants to be alone. She asked me if I see anyone that she knows, not to tell them where she is. And I intend to honor that request. I – "

Daryl's hand, as if driven by its own volition, shot out and gripped Morgan by the neck. He squeezed, just a little. "Ya ain't her fuckin' keeper. Now where is she! Where the – "

Pain shot through Daryl's arm and he released his grip. Then an even stronger pain hit his gut, like an anvil, and he crumpled over. He'd forgotten Morgan knew all that Bruce Lee shit.

"Now sit down!" Morgan hissed. "Before we cause a scene." His eyes shot around the courtyard. A few people had stopped to stare but then they moved on.

Daryl drew himself painfully up and turned, sat on the bench, and leaned his back against the table. "Shit that hurts, ya asshole."

"Then don't ask for it." Morgan sat down hard beside him. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing here? Did you come looking for Carol?"

"Nah." Daryl told him about Negan killing Glenn and Abraham, his imprisonment, Green Acres, and the coming attack.

Morgan sighed. "Richard tried to get Carol to fight once already and to persuade Ezekiel to go to war with the Saviors."

"Why would Carol be able to do that?"

"Because Ezekiel's fond of her."

"Fond? What the hell's that mean? Fond _how?_ "

"Fond. Anyway, she refused. We didn't know Richard's plan to poison the pigs was going to work so well. I don't think _he_ knew it was going to work so well. I think he just wanted to start an all-out war. He probably thought some of the Saviors might get sick, and then Negan would be angry about the rancid meat and come gunning for the Kingdom, and the Kingdom would be forced to fight. Richard's been itching for war for months, apparently. But I don't think he expected his plan to kill everyone in the Sanctuary."

"Well it did," Daryl said.

"Still, I don't think Carol will change her mind. She's beaten her sword into a plowshare. She's weary of it all."

"And ya ain't gonna fight neither, of course."

"I won't be the aggressor," Morgan told him. "But I _will_ defend. I'll be here, behind these walls, to defend the innocent."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Daryl nodded. "A'right then. Where's Carol?"

"I told you. She's not fighting this war. She won't be a part of it."

"Don't care. Just want to see her. See she's a'right for myself."

Morgan sighed. "She asked me if I saw anyone she knew, anyone at all – "

"- Fuck, Morgan. I _need_ to see her."

"Fine. I'll tell you where she is. But you have to promise you didn't hear it from me."

"I ain't gonna lie to Carol 'bout shit."

Morgan laced his fingers together. He stared contemplatively into a fire that was flickering out of a trash can. "Promise you won't pressure her to go to war with the Saviors."

"I ain't promisin' ya shit! Whatever I say to her, that's 'tween her and me. But Carol's her own damn woman. She's gonna do what she's gonna do no matter what _I_ say."

Morgan unlaced his fingers. "You're right about that." He looked out over the courtyard and nodded toward the gate of the Kingdom. "She's in this little house, about three-quarters of a mile outside the Kingdom. You take a right outside the gates, walk down that dirt road. Mailbox says RR4B."

"That's it? She's just in a house? By herself?"

"That's it," Morgan said.

Daryl stood and left Morgan without a word. He found Richard before he left so that he could reclaim his weapons, and then he walked out of the gates, his footsteps falling on the web-like shadows of the setting sun.


	17. Chapter 17

"This place is gorgeous!" Sasha pushed off the wood planks of the porch with her feet. The chair rocked. The sun sunk in soft hues of red, orange, and yellow into the green fields of grass where the cattle ranged. The stalks that lined a distant field danced lightly in the breeze.

"It is." Isaac reached for his glass of sweet tea, which rested on the small table between their two rocking chairs. "I'm lucky I found it. Lucky they were taking people in."

"That dinner tonight..." Sasha shook her head and smiled.

"You could always emigrate when this war is over. Tex is always happy to take in a capable shot, and he'll put you to work. We don't have spare rooms at the moment, but - "

"- I won't be leaving my people."

Isaac rocked. "Well, you can _visit_. I'll take you on a picnic. By the duck pond."

Sasha chuckled. "It's been a long time for you, hasn't it?"

"Most of the apocalypse. When my little band of survivors stumbled on this ranch, my girlfriend discovered I wasn't the only man left in the world."

"Ah." Guilt settled like bad digestion in Sasha's gut. That was more or less what Abraham had told Rosita when he left her. Sasha hadn't meant to steal another woman's man, but falling for Abraham had been like being swept up by an unexpected current. One moment, she was leisurely floating along, and the next she couldn't hope to swim against the tide. "Well, you can't blame her."

"I _can_ and I _do._ She didn't have to _pretend_ to want me. I would have defended her and her children out there anyway."

"Maybe she _wasn't_ pretending. But people fall in and out of love all the time. That was happening long before the dead rose."

"I suppose. But there were a lot more options for rebounding before the dead rose."

Isaac was attractive enough. He was strong and broad shouldered, with a cute smile, despite that missing tooth, and his skin was like smooth, milk chocolate. Surely he had to have prospects. "Not a lot of single women on the ranch?" Sasha had seen at least a dozen women at the funeral, but it was true they all seemed to have men by their sides.

"Not between the age of twenty and sixty, no."

"You wouldn't go for a fit, classy sixty-one year old?"

Isaac turned to her and grinned. "Why? You got any in Alexandria?"

Sasha laughed and shook her head.

[*]

Thick smoke billowed from the chimney and a smaller stream drifted from a pipe at the front of the house. Carol must have a wood stove. Daryl's mouth watered at the thought of her cooking, even though he'd just eaten. It seemed his stomach had opened up again from the small pit it had been trained to become in the Sanctuary.

The low iron gate creaked gently, and he made his quiet way through the yard and up the porch stairs. As he raised his hand to knock, he suddenly thought better of his intrusion. What if Morgan was right? What if she really _didn't_ want to see him? Not even him? After all, who was he to her anymore?

Daryl put his hand down and was about to step back when the door swung inward. Carol leaned the fire poker she held in her hand against the wall. "Daryl?" She threw her arms around him, not unlike Maggie had, but they weren't Maggie's arms. They were Carol's – more familiar, more comfortable - arms that felt like home. He bent his head against her neck and hugged her back.

Carol drew away from his embrace. She studied his face, his hair, his eyes. "I almost didn't recognize you with that haircut and these nice clothes. I thought you were one of the knights."

"Ya always greet the knights with a fire poker?"

She shrugged. "I feel naked without a weapon of some kind, and I was just stoking the fire when I heard the screen door open. How did you find me?" She stepped back and gestured into the house. "Come in."

He walked inside and saw the flames leisurely licking the logs in the fireplace, the afghan draped over the back of the couch, the jigsaw puzzle half completed on the coffee table. It was all so quaint. Warm. _Domestic._ He wondered if this was the sort of life she had once imagined herself, before Ed had begun hitting her. Now she had it, except without the husband, without the child.

Standing there behind the living room couch, he told her everything. Carol hadn't known about Glenn and Abraham, about Daryl's imprisonment, about the extortion of Alexandria, and she covered her mouth to mask her sob. She looked away from him, into the flickering flames of the fire, and he waited. There was never enough time to mourn, but at least she should have her five minutes, which was more than the rest of them had had. So he simply stood there silently until she wiped her face with the back of her hand and turned her still damp, blue eyes back to his.

"How badly did they hurt you?" Carol searched him up and down for fresh scars and bruises.

"Beat me some. But mostly, they didn't hurt me in ways ya can see."

"Come," she said softly, her voice wavering. She nodded toward the kitchen. "I left something boiling." Her voice cracked on _boiling_.

He followed her into the small kitchen. He sniffed the air. "Smells good."

"It's just spaghetti." Carol took the pot off the wood stove and poured it into a strainer in the sink. She captured the hot water in a pan below the strainer and set it aside. Daryl didn't know what she planned to use it for, but he was sure she had a use. "I made sauce with fresh onions and tomatoes from the Kingdom's gardens. You want to join me for dinner?"

"Hell yeah. Yer cookin' is…." He tried to say damn fantastic, but somehow it came out "damntastic."

She smiled, a little sadly, a little fondly. "Damntastic. I'm going to use that one."

She set a place for both of them at the little table and lit the purple wax candles in a three-pronged candelabra, as the sun had now largely set. "Romantic, huh?"

Carol hadn't joked like that with him in a while, and he wasn't amused. For some reason, it angered him - maybe because he'd missed her flirtatious banter more than he'd realized. He ate in silence. Angry silence at first, but then somehow it simply slipped into a familiar silence. The only sound was his uncouth slurping of the spaghetti, and the occasional scrape of her fork against the plate.

Carol watched him without a word, the way she often had back at the prison, when she would bring him dinner on watch and then keep him company, a quiet presence who didn't pressure him to talk. And yet, somehow, they _would_ end up talking. He missed those days, when Beth was alive, and Hershel, and Glenn. When they thought the prison might become a semi-permanent home. Back when they still imagined their greatest enemy was the dead instead of the living.

He finished off his plate in silence and then drained his glass of water. He looked at the candles flicker. "Can I ask ya somethin'?"

Carol nodded.

"Why Tobin?"

She stood and gathered the empty plates, set them in the sink, and put the kettle on the wood stove. He thought she wasn't going to answer, but when she sat back down, she said, "I think because he was…tame? Domesticated. Not adjusted to this violent world. I wanted to live a lie, to make believe, because I was tired of living the truth."

"And what's the truth?"

"That the people I love are broken, just like me. And that as long as I'm with them, I will do the most awful things to defend them. But no matter how vile the things I do to save them, eventually, they'll end up dead anyway. And I'll be alone."

"So ya thought ya'd skip straight to the alone part?"

"It'll be easier this way," she said. "I won't kill and I won't watch people die."

"Don't make no damn sense a'tall."

"It makes sense to me."

"Well it shouldn't." The idea of losing her, not to death or banishment, but to her own _choice_ , her own voluntary isolation, her _walking out_ on them – it infuriated him. "Fuck, Carol!" He pounded the table with his fist. The candelabra shook. Hot purple wax splashed on the white tablecloth.

Carol flinched, just a tiny bit, and then stilled, the way she had on Hershel's farm, when he'd yelled in her face, and she'd waited for the storm of his anger to pass. And she was right to think a storm was brewing now. It whirled up in Daryl like a tornado, and spewed out of him like a hurricane:

"All them times ya tried to draw me into the group...Yer every bit as good as Rick, Daryl. Yer every bit as good as Shane. Don't do this! Don't pull away again! Come into Hershel's house. You've _earned_ your place. Ya should be on the Prison Council. Yer gonna have to get used to the love, Daryl. Yer a part of us now! Cain't be alone in this world no more." He leaned forward partway over the table, and a muscle jumped in his jaw line. "Well ya know what? Ya was right. Ya was fuckin' right! So why ain't ya takin' yer own advice, you dumb ass bitch? What are ya doin' here, _alone,_ in this god-forsaken, useless-as-fuck, no-account, outskirts, Norman-Rockwell-bullshit, quaint-ass house!"

The kettle whistled, loud and shrill.

Daryl stood abruptly, scraped back his chair, and plucked it up from the wood stove. The anger still coursed through his veins, but it was being gradually chased out by regret over his words and fear of her reaction. He hadn't yelled at her like that since the beginning. He'd _never_ yelled at her in that many words. He wasn't even quite sure _why_ he'd lost it. He poured the boiling water all over the forks and plates in the sink.

Carol's voice was thinly calm when she said, "I was going to make us hot chocolate with that."

"Oh." He plunked the now empty kettle down onto the counter top. "Thought it was for the washin'."

"Well, since you poured it out, maybe I'll open us up a bottle of wine instead. We can sit on the couch in my Norman-Rockwell-bullshit living room. Drink it in front of my useless-as-fuck fireplace. And then you can finish telling me what a dumb ass bitch I am. How's that sound?"


	18. Chapter 18

Isaac led Maggie and Sasha to one of the smaller bedrooms of the main house, where there were two sets of bunk beds that appeared to be handmade. He introduced them to Santiago, who was lying on a bottom bunk and who quickly shoved a _Hustler_ magazine under his pillow when they walked in. Malik was leaning against a dresser and sharpening a knife. Jackson was lying on his back on a top bunk bed and throwing a large bouncy ball against the ceiling and catching it.

Malik sheathed his knife and said, "I gather two of us will be giving up our beds tonight for these ladies. I volunteer."

"You can have mine," said Santiago, sitting up. Maggie wasn't sure she wanted to sleep on Santiago's sheets.

The bouncy ball thudded against the ceiling and landed in Jackson's hand. "Tex said he's giving them the study, so they'll have privacy. There's a couch there for Maggie and plenty of blankets and sleeping bags for Sasha."

"Where's Tex going to sleep, then?" Santiago asked.

"He isn't," said Maggie, knowing full well she hadn't slept for almost three days after Glenn died.

"I'll show you the study, then," Isaac said.

Jackson rolled off the top bunk and landed with a soft, stocking-footed thud on the floor. "It's too early for bed. Let's show them the game room in the cellar after they get settled."

[*]

Carol didn't say a word to Daryl as she led him to the living room. There was a forced calm about her demeanor that made him wonder how she had taken his outburst.

She plunked the wine bottle and two wine glasses down on the coffee table and pulled out her Swiss army knife. After prying out the corkscrew, she stabbed it into the cork and worked the thing out with a loud pop.

The wine sloshed into each of the wine glasses. The bottle clinked against the coffee table. Carol sat on the couch. Daryl eased himself down cautiously on the other side, leaving one full cushion between them.

Daryl sipped the wine slowly and in silence as he listened to the crackle and pop of the flames lapping the logs and to Carol's almost imperceptible breathing. He sipped until the very last drop in the glass.

[*]

The cue ball made a satisfying whack, and the number four ball rolled gracefully into the side pocket. Sasha pumped her fist. Maggie hadn't wanted to play. She'd said she was going for a walk. Sasha knew Maggie needed solitude, silence, and space to deal with her grief. Sasha, however, needed planning, purpose, or - failing either of those - play.

"Not bad," said Isaac, his back leaned against the cinderblock wall where he stood watching the game.

Jackson rubbed chalk on his cue stick as he watched Sasha take her next shot. She could feel his eyes on her ass as she bent over the table, and maybe that's why she missed.

Now Jackson leaned himself over the pool table. Sasha rested the end of her cue stick on the floor and put a hand on one hip. "There's a lot of stuff down here. Did you scavenge it all?"

"People brought things when they came," Isaac told her. "But a lot of it was already here."

Jackson missed his shot and cursed.

Sasha chuckled.

"We don't like to scavenge," Jackson told her. "That's how the Saviors found the ranch and Tex's boy got killed. So when this war is over, if Alexandria will scavenge for us, we'll supply you guys with fresh food."

"You guys?" Sasha lined up her shot. "Where are you from?"

"Me?" Jackson asked. "Arlington, Virginia. We don't say _y'all_ around _those there_ parts." He smirked and Sasha rolled her eyes.

She felt his eyes on her ass again when she leaned over the table. The balls cracked. "Jackson sounds like a southern name, though," she said as she stood and her ball rolled into the pocket.

"It's his last name," Isaac told her. "I play the winner." He smiled at Sasha. She sauntered around the table to line up her next shot and wondered how Abraham would react if he were alive to see these two men flirting with her.

[*]

Daryl set his empty wine glass down on the coffee table. Without looking at Carol, he muttered, "Sorry. Didn't mean none of it."

"You did. You meant every word of it."

"Shouldn't of said it."

"No, you _should_ have said it. Your honesty is one of the things I love about you. But maybe you could have done it without all the swearing and the name calling."

He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry."

Carol put her empty glass on the table.

"I...Ya left, Carol. Ya just _left_ without even..." He bit down on his back teeth because he didn't want this emotion, whatever the hell it was, to escape. She'd left without a word to any of them. After everything they'd been through together, she'd left with nothing but a note - to _Tobin._

"I hear what you're saying. I know how I felt when you left the prison with Merle. I had to hear about it through Rick. You didn't even say goodbye to me."

"But I came back." He poured her another glass of wine and set the bottle back down with an irritated thud.

"Aren't you going to pour yourself one, too?" she asked.

"I'm a mean drunk. Ya know that."

"How would I know that? I've only seen you drunk once, at the CDC, and I think that was the first time I _ever_ saw you laugh. You didn't seem mean to me."

Carol hadn't seen him drunk on moonshine, acting like an ass with Beth, letting out his anger and pissing all over the cabin floor. And Beth had _still_ been nice to him afterward. The way Carol was being nice to him now. Why were women so damn _nice_ to him? It would be so much easier staying angry if they weren't.

"Besides, you aren't going to get drunk on half a bottle of wine." Carol refilled his glass and smiled. "Are you, tough guy?"

He grunted and plucked up the glass. He sat back against the cushion and sipped once before resting the stem on his knee. The red liquid looked almost pink in the bright light from the fireplace. "Goin' back to Alexandria tomorrow. Recruitin' some people to fight Saturday. Will ya come with?"

"I can't."

"Ya mean ya _won't_." He sipped again, his eyes on the fire. "So this is it? We share this bottle. I leave. Me and them others fight this war, while ya sit alone in yer little house. And we never see each other again? That's what ya want? And ya ain't gonna miss…" He couldn't say _me_. "Any of us?"

Carol ran a finger up and down the stem of her wine glass. She looked up from her glass and caught his eyes. They were easier to catch without those bangs to hide behind. "Tell me the truth. You came to love Beth out there, after the prison collapsed. And then you lost her. And her death tore you in pieces. I _saw_ it. Wouldn't it have been _better_ , easier, if you had just walked away from that prison _alone_?"

He drained his wine glass in one long guzzle and set it down on the coffee table with a clink. " _No_. It wouldn't of been better. Saw things in Beth I didn't think could exist in this world no more. And that changed me. Changed me for the better. And I wouldn't unwish a second of that pain if it meant unwishin' that change."

Carol looked down into her wine glass. Daryl took it out of her hand so she was forced to look at him instead.

"Ya changed me, too, Carol. Ya made me grow the fuck up. Ya made me realize I cain't go it alone. And if I lose ya _now_ , 'cause ya decide to cut yerself off from us, don't think it ain't gonna hurt me. It's gonna hurt like holy hell. Just the same as if ya was dead. But I _still_ won't wish I'd never known ya. I wouldn't unwish that pain. Not if it meant unwishin' the change." He shook his head. "Sophia. Shane. Lori. Merle. Andrea. T-Dog. Patrick. Hershel. Beth. Denise. Abraham. Glenn..." Carol's eyes began to brim with tears at the litany of loss. "They _all_ changed me. Unwishin' knowin' 'em? That'd be like unwishin' _myself_. A man ain't nothin' but a product of everyone he's ever loved. And I love all y'all. You, too. You most of all."

A cry broke out from between Carol's lips, a single sob she immediately swallowed. She swiped quickly at her eyes and sniffled, three times. What the hell had he just said to make her cry like that? He couldn't even remember most of his own words. They'd just...spilled out, like his passions too often did, like they had when Rosita cried and he'd hit Negan.

"Okay," she whispered through a shaky breath.

"Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay, I'll go back to Alexandria with you tomorrow morning. I'll help you recruit. I'll come back to the Kingdom with you. And then I'll fight. I'll fight to defend the people I love. Every last one of you."


	19. Chapter 19

Carol pushed open the door of the spare bedroom and held up the oil lamp to illuminate it. "Can't promise the sheets aren't dusty," she said.

"Ya know I've slept in worse," Daryl told her.

"If I'd known I was having company…"

"Be fine."

"You could always share my bed," she teased, the way she had back in the prison.

Daryl wondered what she'd do if he called her bluff, just _once_. So he did. "A'right."

Her smile flickered like the flame of the oil lamp. "I…uh…."

"That's what I thought." He stepped into the guest bedroom.

"You _want_ to?" she asked skeptically.

He turned to face her. Maybe he was tired of her song and dance. Maybe he was tired of his own uncertainty and insecurity. Maybe he was tired of people dying on him and of feeling the time he'd had with them was all too short. Or maybe he was just plain _tired_. "Yeah, I do."

She jerked her head toward the hall. "Then come on. I've got a Queen."

[*]

Maggie watched the fireflies dip and flash over the dark green grass as she strolled the ranch. She felt a haunting emptiness somewhere deep in her gut, surrounded at its edges by a fluttering optimism. Tomorrow morning she and Sasha would roll into Alexandria with Tex and van full of guns and ammunition – hope on four wheels. She couldn't wait to see Rick's face. They'd make her wait it out in Alexandria, she knew, but at least she would have done _something_. Already, she had convinced Tex to arm her people and to unite with them.

The chickens clucked when she past their coop. The pigs stirred and oinked in their pen. The crickets sung in the grass. As she neared one of the open barns, she saw the glow of a lantern clipped to a pole in the center and heard Tex's deep drawl as he spoke: "Not you too, Betsy. Come on, girl. Can't lose you, too, baby girl. Take it! Take it!"

Curious, Maggie peered inside and saw him squatted down on his haunches, holding a calf up to its mother teat. The cow mooed quietly, but the calf turned its face away.

Maggie took a step inside. The barnyard smells were pungent, but in a world of decaying flesh, there wasn't much repulsive about manure. In fact, it hit her almost like the scent of apple pie on a window sill – a reminder of another time and another world - a reminder of home. "Won't take the tit?" she asked.

Startled, Tex fell back on his ass. He set the calf down in the straw. "No. She won't."

"Mind if I take a look at her?"

Tex stood and brushed the straw off his jeans. He peered at her skeptically. "What do you know about cows?"

"I grew up on a farm." Maggie hunkered down next to the calf and opened its mouth.

"Already checked that. She ain't got thrush."

"You have a vet?"

"We only have a people doctor. She helps with the animals sometimes, but it ain't the same, people and cows. Tammy comes from four generations of ranchers, though, and she's always – " He stopped. "She _came_ from four generations of ranchers," he corrected himself. "She _was_ always the one who nursed the animals."

"It was two weeks before I stopped talking about Glenn in the present tense."

"I know more about horses than cows. I train horses and rustle the cattle, and Tammy nurses - _nursed..."_ He trailed off and watched Maggie peer into the calf's mouth and move its tongue. "Sure it's a good idea for you to be around animals, being pregnant and all?"

"I've been around a lot worse. And the baby survived it all."

"Yeah, well, Tammy and I went to hell and back those first six months before we reached this place. We escaped a dozen tight spots - from walkers to men - that could have been fatal. And in the end - after _all_ that - it was just a freak accident of nature that killed her. God has a sick sense of humor."

Maggie stood. "I'm not sure I believe in God anymore."

"I'm not sure I ever did. But I went to church every Sunday before the collapse, sat through a thirty-minute sermon every week, 'cause Tammy wanted me to."

"Now that's love," Maggie said with a smile. "Try putting a little sugar on it."

"What?"

"On the mama's teat."

Tex nodded. "Worth a shot I reckon."

"And try putting the nipple in with your finger just below the tongue. Play with the tongue until she takes it."

"You _did_ grow up on a farm, didn't you?"

"Sure did."

He tipped his cowboy hat to her and nodded toward the open barn door. "You oughtta be gettin' some sleep, ma'am."

Maggie took the hint and left him alone in the barn. She wondered if he'd doze off for an hour there, in the straw, beside the calf, the way she'd dozed off briefly that first night beside Glenn's grave.

[*]

Carol's room was tidy and the bed was carefully made, with the comforter folded down neatly in front of the fluffy pillows. Daryl propped his crossbow against the wall, sat in an old-style rocking chair, and yanked off his boots. He peeled off his socks more slowly, waiting to see how far she was planning to undress.

Carol took off her sweater, worked her bra out from under her T-shirt, and dropped her pants. She put them all in a laundry basket on the other side of her night stand. The button-down shirt fell to her thighs, but it rode up when she began crawling under the comforter, and his eyes flitted to the nylon panties that clung to her ass.

Daryl returned his sight to his socks, which he tucked in his boots. He stood, slid off his jacket, and left it puddled in the rocking chair. He shed his button-down shirt and threw it on top of the jacket, but he left his sleeveless undershirt on. When he dropped his pants, the handgun, belt, and knife clinked on the floor.

Carol, who was now sitting up under the blankets, chuckled, and he flushed red. "What's so damn funny?" It wasn't as if he already had an erection. He knew. He'd checked.

"Are those silk?" she asked. "Are _you_ wearing silk boxers, fancy pants?"

"Gave 'em to me at the ranch," Daryl muttered.

"Well, they look nice on you."

He bent over and slid his handgun out of the holster attached to his pants, brought it over, and lay it on the nightstand on the other side of the bed from her. Then he went back for his crossbow, which he also propped against the nightstand.

"I'm surprised you don't sleep with a knife under your pillow," she said.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' prepared," he shot back. "Be foolish not to."

"I wasn't being sarcastic." She sat up and lifted her pillow to reveal the hunting knife beneath it. "I'm genuinely surprised you don't."

"Oh." He chuckled, a single puff of air. "Glad to see ya ain't gone completely soft."

When he slid in next to her, she turned down the oil lamp until it was nothing but a blue-white glow, though a faint haze of starlight still seeped through the sheer curtains. He lay on his back with his arms straight down at his sides and stared at the dark watermark on the ceiling above where a pipe had once leaked. That sort of thing used to frustrate people, a lifetime ago, when not having running water was considered a real hardship.

Carol rolled onto her side, laced one of her arms through his, and wedged one of her legs between his two. She rested her head on his shoulder, like a kitten curling up around a ball of yarn. Instinctively, he tensed, but she didn't take it as an insult. She just cuddled even closer.

Gradually, his muscles relaxed. He was surprised at her forwardness, but maybe she was thinking about the same thing he was - that on Saturday, either or both of them might die, and this could be their last chance.

She kissed his bare shoulder, just where it peeked out from his sleeveless undershirt. Her lips were hot against his flesh. So were her fingertips when she snaked them under his shirt and feathered them teasingly across his stomach. "Wanna screw around?"

He could tell she was trying to ask it in that same sarcastic voice she'd used at the prison, to protect herself if he said no. But her tone was unconvincing, and it was harder to take the words as a joke when she was lying beside him in bed with no pants on.

"Yeah. I do." He turned, which forced her to roll on her back. Her eyes, which he could only faintly make out in the starlight, widened in surprise. Before she could take back her words, he hooked a finger into the edge of her panties and began to slide them off. "I'll go down first."

[*]

"Where have you been?" Maggie asked when Sasha slipped into the study.

"Playing pool with the boys." Maggie had already made a nest on the floor, though she was sitting behind the great oak desk. "Don't you want the couch?"

"My back hurts. I'll be more comfortable on the floor."

"Are you ready for bed?"

"Not even close," Maggie admitted.

"Me either." Sasha grabbed a book from the bookcase, sat on the couch, and turned on the nearby lamp.

Meanwhile, Maggie looked at the map spread out on the desk, the highlighted pathways, the circled spots marked - Alex., King., Hill., Sanc. She folded up the map and discovered a small spiral notebook wedged under it. Curious, she flipped through a few blank pages, until she spied some handwritten notes scrawled in black ink, which she assumed Tex had written some time today after talking privately to Isaac.

 _Sanctuary \- destroyed, some supplies may remain - scavenge after war_

 _Mt. Vernon \- 80 fighters, 100 people, 8+ RPGs, numerous arms_

 _* Simon - leader - mustache_

 _Hilltop \- trade potential: medical supplies - 3-4 fighters - arms delivered _

_* Gregory - leader - firearms 1; diplomacy 5; intelligence 5; courage 0 (per Isaac)_

 _* "Jesus" - Isaac's contact - firearms 5; martial arts 10; diplomacy 7; intelligence 6-7 (per Isaac)_

 _* Doctor - medical skill 9-10 (saved Maggie & baby)_

 _Kingdom \- 12 trained fighters  & 8-10 moderate fighters - some arms, more needed - trade potential: unknown_

 _* "King Ezekiel" - leader - mentally ill? - skills unknown_

 _Fair Oaks Mall Camp_ _-_ _destroyed in Saviors' attack, 10 killed, 1 taken_

 _* Hope - teenager - Negan's prisoner 5 days - firearms 2; knife 4; intelligence 5-6_

 _* mall may still have uncollected supplies - scavenge_

 _Alexandria \- trade potential: scavenging services - c. 10 fighters - need arms_

 _* Daryl - Negan's prisoner 3 weeks - likely tortured - inside knowledge of Saviors - taciturn, moody, use caution \- crossbow 10; firearms 7; hunting 9; knife 10; construction 6; diplomacy 2; intelligence (smarter than appears) 8-9 _

_* Carl, Enid (teenagers), Judith (toddler)_

 _* Rosita ("bad ass" per Daryl); firearms 7, knife 7_

 _* Michonne - swordsmanship 10, firearms 1 (per D.)_

 _* Carol ("biggest bad ass" per Sasha via Isaac); cooking 10, knife 10, firearms 7 (per D.)_

 _* Rick - "leader" of Alexandria - former sheriff's deputy, firearms 7-8 (per D.) - surrendered all weapons - soft?_

 _* Sasha - firearms 7, intelligence 7-8, potential distraction to Isaac & Jackson_

 _* Maggie - widowed - husband Glenn - pregnant - firearms ?; intelligence 7-8; diplomacy 10_

Maggie closed the notebook and slid it back under the map where'd she'd found it. "Tex thinks Daryl is smarter than either of us."

Sasha looked up form her book. "He told you that?"

"No, all of his assessments are in his notes. He sure is detail oriented. And he must be a very good shot himself if he thinks you, Daryl, Carol, and Rick are only a 7 in firearms skills." Maggie was still chuckling to herself over the part about Sasha being a potential distraction to Tex's men. "So, did you have a good time playing with Isaac and Jackson?"

Sasha yawned. "Maybe I am tired after all."

[*]

Carol had been a lot louder and more enthusiastic than Daryl expected. At one point, he'd feared that he was hurting her, and he'd stilled in his thrusting, until she'd begged him not to stop.

Now, he lay on his back, overwhelmed by his own release, his breath slowing bit by bit to a regular rhythm, his fingertips caressing her bare back as she lay with her head on his chest. His thumb gently circled a burn mark just above and to the right of her hip, where Ed had once pressed a lit cigarette deep into her flesh.

"You have them too," she said. "I counted seven."

He'd counted hers, too, when his hands were roving her naked flesh, though he didn't tell her that. "Made a good ashtray for my daddy."

"And twelve lashes."

"Good thing it's dark and ya can only feel 'em."

"I've seen them before," she said. "At the farm." Her fingertips roamed across his bare chest and down, tickling and warming his flesh. She ran her index finger all the way across a scar. "But this one's from the arrow you fell on when you were searching for Sophia."

Daryl's heart seized in his chest. He could't remember the last time Carol had spoken her little girl's name. He felt the failure as fresh as he had that day in the barn, when she'd told him to stop looking, told him she couldn't lose him too. He bit down hard on his back teeth, to keep the noise inside, the sputter of old grief. For a moment, he thought it had escaped anyway, but then he realized it was _Carol_ who was crying. Her tears wet his naked flesh.

He wished he knew what to say, but he didn't, so he could only tighten his arms around her until the tears stopped, her breathing leveled, and her chest rose and fell against his side in a peaceful pattern of sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

"You got one of their RPGs," Sasha noted as Isaac loaded the weapon into one of the Saviors' trucks.

"They had it when they came to collect."

She looked into the back of another truck, which was parked nearby. "Is that a bomb in there?"

"Yep. It's disabled at the moment. But we were planning to blow them up outside the ranch. Maybe we'll do it outside the Kingdom now." Next he started loading in green metal cases of ammo and boxes of magazines.

Sasha helped. She paused when she saw Tex approaching, in a languid, manly gait, his eyes half on the ground, his cowboy hat tilted down. He looked up only when he reached them. "I'm sending Jackson on ahead to the Kingdom with this truck, and Malik with the other one," he told Isaac. "I'm leaving Santiago and Dawson here, because I want two snipers to defend the ranch while we're gone. That and Dawson can farm. We'll use the third truck to transport our fighters. Now you're sure the Kingdom _will_ be expecting us?"

Isaac nodded. "Daryl went there yesterday to tell them."

"I want you with me when I got to Alexandria."

"Yes, sir."

"We take the C.A.T. van," Tex said as he walked off.

Just to annoy Isaac, because he was amusing when he was irritated, Sasha said, "Tex is really good-looking. Those _eyes_."

Isaac was predictably ruffled. "He just lost his wife. Have some respect. Besides, Tex is spoiled forever for other women. So don't even think about that."

"You'd be surprised how quickly people will move on in an apocalypse," she told him, thinking of Rick's jump from Lori to Jessie to Michonne, while simultaneously avoiding thinking about her _own_ jump from Bob to Abraham, or Abraham's from Rosita to her. She thought, too, of Carol's jump from Daryl to Tobin, although she wasn't sure if that was a _jump_.

Sasha had thought Carol and Daryl were a couple when she'd first moved into the prison, but they didn't sleep together. She'd seen Daryl talking to Carol often, in a way he didn't to other people. She'd watched Carol tease him, and seen Daryl blush and _almost_ smile. Everyone had treated them as if they somehow belonged to each other, but Sasha had rarely seen them touch one another. She had thought it was all very weird, and had asked Maggie, "What's going on between those two, exactly?" Maggie had said, "It is what it is. Just roll with it."

Sasha looked inside a cardboard box she was hefting into the truck. "Grenades? _Two_ of them? Sweet!"

"Be careful with that thing," Isaac warned.

[*]

The sun was a blinding wave of light when Daryl opened his eyes. He sat up abruptly. He'd slept too hard and too long and felt suddenly disoriented. He patted the bed to his right. Carol was gone, and he was overwhelmed by a sudden, sick certainty that she'd run away again. But then the kettle whistled in the kitchen. The sound stopped suddenly.

Quickly, Daryl dressed and armed himself. When he came out, there was breakfast on the table, fresh apples smeared with peanut butter.

"Must be apple season," he said. "Green Acres had a shitload."

Carol put a cup of coffee in front of his place. "You snore," she told him.

"Do not." He sat down and popped a sticky apple slice in his mouth. He shyly avoided meeting her eyes. He'd gotten over that hurdle with her months ago, but after last night, he'd have to re-learn eye contact again.

"Morgan brought over a car for you this morning," Carol told him. "He said Jesus has already left for the Hilltop."

Daryl finished chewing and swallowed hard so he could speak. "A car for _us._ "

"Well, he didn't know I was going, so he _said_ for _you_."

"But you _are_ comin' with?" Daryl asked.

Carol sat down across from him. "Yes. I meant everything I said last night. And everything I _did,_ too." She brought her coffee cup to her lips.

Daryl's face probably matched the red skin of the apples he studied on his plate, but he was glad for that clarification. She'd cried herself to sleep, gotten up before him, and hadn't said a word about it since he'd set foot in the kitchen. He was starting to wonder if she regretted it.

When his face began to feel a little less hot, he looked up from his apples. "You and Morgan friends now? After what he did to ya back in Alexandria?"

"Morgan saved my life. I was shot by a man after I left. He was about to shoot me again. Morgan killed him to save me."

"Wait. You was _shot_? Ya ain't told me that!"

Carol shrugged and sipped her coffee. "Everyone gets shot, sooner or later. You've been shot twice. Maybe I'll beat your record in this war against the Saviors. Or at least tie it."

"Don't say that. That ain't funny."

Carol chuckled. "I thought it was pretty funny."

"It ain't."

"You're completely humorless, Daryl." She chuckled again. "And I find that funny, too."

[*]

Isaac drove. Tex sat in the passenger's seat, and Maggie and Sasha sat in the first row of bench seats. They'd taken out the rest of the seats – as well as Daryl's motorcycle – to load up the C.A.T. van with guns and ammo for Alexandria.

Tex turned and looked between the two seats at Maggie. "Thanks for your advice. Took half the night, but it worked. I got me some sugar, played with her nipple, got the tongue going, and it worked out real nice."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"He's talking about a calf that wouldn't feed," Maggie explained.

"Oh."

Isaac laughed. "Not nearly as interesting as what you imagined, huh?"

Sasha covered her face and blushed into her hands.

Tex chuckled. "It's a ranch. Ain't the Playboy Mansion." His head disappeared from between the seats. The front passenger's seat popped back. It almost reached Maggie's knees. "Sorry," Tex muttered, and pulled it forward a little again. He put his cowboy boots up on the dash, tilted his hat over his head, and drifted off to sleep. He awoke an hour later with a snort when the van went over a walker like a speed bump. "We there?"

"Another hour, probably," Sasha said.

Tex slid his boots off the dash and returned his seat to its original position.

"Are you really letting Hugo fight?" Isaac asked him.

"Why the hell not?" Tex replied. "He's a decent shot. At least a 6. Maybe a 7. Clever kid, too. 10 on brains."

Maggie suppressed a chuckle when she thought of Tex's copious notes and rating system. She wondered if he rated women on their looks in a similar way.

"He's only fourteen," Isaac said.

"Boy's restless. He's running out of books to read. I caught him slipping over the gates again, just to roam and kill walkers. Hugo needs to get out some energy. He either needs to go to war or get a girlfriend."

"There are no single teenage girls on the ranch."

"There's that new one y'all brought home," Tex said. "Hope. She's skiddish now, but - "

"- She's _eighteen_ ," Isaac replied.

"Is she _really_?" Tex asked. "I thought she was only fifteen or sixteen. God, I feel old."

"How old do you think _I_ am?" Maggie asked from the backseat.

"Thirty-three," Tex guessed.

"I'm twenty-six."

Isaac laughed. "Nothing like insulting our new friends, Tex."

"It wasn't an insult. She seems too wise and poised to be less than thirty."

"Well Hugo can forget about Hope," Isaac told him. "Four years difference."

"I was eighteen and Tammy was twenty-two when I was a ranch hand on her father's ranch. And, uh…well….let's just say her father didn't care for me too much."

Isaac laughed. Then his lips faded into a straight line. "Jesus. I didn't realize you'd been together that long."

"Nineteen years. Eighteen of them married."

"You got married when you were still a _teenager_?" Maggie asked.

"Circumstances rushed matters," he answered.

Isaac glanced at him. "But Cash was barely fourteen."

"The first one ended in miscarriage."

Maggie felt a sudden jolt of fear. Without knowing it, she rested a hand on her belly.

"I was thinking entirely below the belt back then," Tex told Isaac. "It was just dumb luck on my part that I ended up with such a fantastic woman. Tammy matured me. So did becoming a daddy."

Maggie wondered how the baby in her womb might change her and how the child might have changed Glenn, if only he had lived. When Tex suddenly tipped his hat down, Maggie envied him the chance to hide his tearing eyes. All she could do was turn her face to the window.

[*]

Carol turned on the CD player of the sedan as Daryl drove toward Alexandria. Peppy music seeped out of the speakers.

"Turn that shit off!" Daryl smashed the volume button with a clenched fist, and the sound immediately died.

"I just wanted a little music," said Carol, looking at him warily.

"Sorry," he muttered. "When I's in that cell, Negan played some damn song over and over and over. Every damn time I'd drift off to sleep, that shit came on. Didn't sleep more than fifteen minutes at a time. Ever."

"I'm so sorry," Carol said softly. "I didn't know."

"Sorry for yellin'."

Carol's eyes flitted over him. "How are you?" she asked.

"Ain't the best I've ever been. Ain't the worst, neither." He turned to search her up and down as well. Something had happened to her on the road from Alexandria to the Kingdom, something ugly. It had ended with her getting shot, after all. "How 'bout you?"

"The same."

Daryl looked back at the road. They didn't speak for twenty minutes, when Daryl said, "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure."

"Last night."

"What about it?" Carol asked.

Daryl concentrated fiercely on the road. "Ya like it?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see she had flushed. Carol wasn't usually the one flushing, and it surprised him.

"What did it sound like?" she asked.

"Sounded like ya liked it."

She smiled. "I did."

"So...uh..." He gripped the wheel a little tighter. "That mean it's happenin' again?"

"I don't think we're the ones who get to decide that," she answered. "This war's going to decide that." Daryl drew his eyes from the road for a brief moment, long enough to see that she looked sad and weary and hopeful all at once. "How many times do you think we get to start over?" she asked.

"As many times as it takes." Daryl pushed down hard on the accelerator. The engine roared beneath the weight, and the road behind them vanished bit by bit.


	21. Chapter 21

The sedan crunched to a stop outside the gates of Alexandria. Carol peered through the windshield. "Rick really has given up if _Eugene_ is on watch."

"Allies and guns'll change his mind." Daryl pushed open the driver's side door.

As they strolled toward the gate, Eugene stuck his neck forward, like one of those bobble heads on a dashboard, and exclaimed, "Well this is indeed a most fortuitious and unexpected sight to behold! I will inform the others."

They stood at the gates for what seemed several minutes. Carol looked at Daryl with a raised eyebrow.

Daryl shrugged. "Probably takin' him a long time to get his words out."

Carol snorted.

The gate rolled open. Rick stood there, opening and closing his left hand expectantly, his lips trembling just a little. "Daryl, brother…" He strode forward and embraced Daryl. When he pulled back, Rick turned to Carol, hugged her briefly, and asked, "Morgan?"

"He's safe in the Kingdom."

"In the what?"

"Let's go in," Carol said. "We'll tell you everything."

After they walked through the gates, which Eugene rolled shut behind them, they were flooded by people. Hugs were exchanged all around. There were a lot of comments on Daryl's haircut and clothes.

"You look _handsome_ ," Aaron told him in a tone of surprise, which caused Eric to frown.

Michonne, who had strolled up holding Judith, handed the toddler to Daryl.

"Hey, sweetheart," he cooed to her. "Uncle Daryl missed you, girl."

Judith put her little lips against his cheek and blew a loud raspberry, which made Carol and Michonne both laugh. Daryl winced and wiped off the spittle with one hand. When Judith started squirming her way down, he set her on her feet, and she clung to his leg.

"She's walking now," Carl said. "Kind of." He backed up, bent over, and clapped his hands. "Come to big brother, Judy, come on now."

Judith giggled and took two hesitant steps toward him. Carl backed up again and she toddle-ran four more steps before pitching forward. Carl caught her and scooped her up.

"How did you escape?" Rick asked Daryl. "We've got to hide you, man. Negan's coming to collect again tomorrow, and if he sees – "

"- Negan ain't comin' to collect," Daryl interrupted him. "Negan ain't settin' foot in Alexandria ever again."

[*]

Three doors slammed. Tex, Maggie, and Sasha walked forward from the C.A.T. van. Sasha looked up at Rosita on the wall, who turned back and hollered, "They're here!"

"Your friends were expecting us?" Tex asked.

"Daryl must be here already," Sasha answered.

The gates soon opened, and Isaac drove the van inside while the other three trailed behind it. The van was soon surrounded by curious onlookers.

"Glad to have you back," Sasha told Carol. "You're fighting with us?"

Carol nodded.

Isaac shut the van door, strolled over to Sasha, and looked Carol up and down dubiously. "Is this the biggest bad ass?"

Sasha chuckled. "That's her."

Isaac nodded a greeting to Carol, almost a half-bow. "You're right. I _wouldn't_ know it to look at her."

Carol shot Sasha a questioning look.

"I was just describing you to him," Sasha explained. She began introducing Isaac and Tex to everyone. Tex greeted each person with a subtle nod, but Isaac was more personable. When he raised Michonne's hand to his lips, she let out a sultry, amused chuckle, and Rick looked at Isaac through narrow eyes. Isaac did the same thing when he greeted Tara and Rosita, though he gave a solid shake to the hands of the men. When he had stepped away from the last person, Sasha whispered to him, "Just so you know, Michonne is taken, Tara's gay, and Rosita's very easily irritated."

"Sounds like you're trying to undermine the competition," he whispered back, which earned him one of Sasha's signature eye rolls.

"We come bearing gifts!" Tex announced. "Well, an _advance_ anyway. We hope you'll pay us back after this war by helping us scavenge medicines and some other things we need." He walked around to the back of the van. Rick and some of the others trailed after him as Tex flung open the doors. "I've sent more arms ahead to the Kingdom."

Rosita gazed in at the rifles, handguns, and green cases of ammo. She whistled, reached into her front pocket, and fished out the single bullet Eugene had made her. "Kind of makes this seem like less of an accomplishment. I was saving it for Negan, for when he came to collect."

"You planned to kill Negan with _one_ bullet?" Tex asked.

Rosita looked at him languidly through long lashes. "Well you did it, didn't you? With a single shot?"

"I had back-up. I wouldn't have tried it _by myself_ with a _single bullet._ What did you think would happen after you shot him?"

"I didn't think that far," Rosita admitted. "But Rick gave away all of our guns, and the best I could do was get Eugene to make this for me."

Tex looked Eugene over. "Are you an efficient reloader?"

"I believe I possess adequate talent in the field."

Tex tipped up his cowboy hat. "We've got a barn with two high quality Dillon presses, a couple boxes of our own spent brass, and twenty jars of gunpowder. We could employ your _adequate talent_ after this war. We don't have a lot of free time to reload ourselves, what with all the ranch work, so you could work in exchange for milk, eggs, and apples."

"Are you suggesting an unspecified term of indentured servitude?" Eugene asked.

"Shut up, Eugene," Rosita told him. She looked directly at Tex. "He'll be _happy_ to work for you." She glared at Eugene. "Do something productive for the community for once."

Isaac bent his head down slightly to whisper to Sasha, "You might be right about her."

Rosita strode to the van, reached in, and took her pick of a rifle. Tara grabbed one next, then Carol, Rick, Michonne, Aaron, Carl, and Father Gabriel.

"Is the boy fighting?" Isaac asked. "How old are you, kid?"

"Fifteen," Carl said. "I've killed before. Easily."

"That's not something to boast about," Tex told him. "But if you can shoot, you can fight with us."

"He can shoot," Rick said. "But I want you to stay here, Carl."

"What?" Carl spat.

"If I die in this war, you're going to need to be there for Judith."

"So only nine," Tex said.

"I'm going with you!" Carl insisted. "I'm fighting in this war! I'm not some little child anymore, Dad! I – "

"- We'll discuss this later," Rick hissed. He turned to Father Gabriel. "And you're going to need to stay to protect Alexandria, if anything should happen while we're gone."

"I assumed as much," Father Gabriel said, "But I'd feel much more comfortable doing it with a rifle rather than _just_ a prayer." He patted the gun.

"So only eight," Tex said.

"Where's Spencer?" Daryl asked.

"He defected," Rick told him, "over a week ago, to the Saviors. He went off with some woman."

"Jesus," Daryl muttered. "Why?"

"He didn't like the way I was running things," Rick said. "I guess he thought the Saviors knew how to get things done."

"Yeah, well, dumb ass is likely walkin' 'round dead in the Sanctuary now."

"Tobin might be willing to fight," Carol suggested, "and some of the other construction workers. I'll talk to him."

Daryl tensed noticeably at this mention of Tobin, but then Carol, in front of everyone, trailed a hand affectionately across his back, circled around his side, laced a finger through his belt loop, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He ducked his head, but he didn't move away.

"Thought he didn't have a woman," Isaac said to Sasha in a low voice.

"Well," Sasha replied with a smile. "It looks like Carol is finally marking her territory."


	22. Chapter 22

Tex stood on one end of the gray-and-white marbled granite kitchen counter, across from Rick. Isaac and Sasha stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder on the left and Daryl and Michonne on the right, forming an impromptu council.

Michonne rested a hand on the hilt of her knife near her hip. "And the Kingdom has agreed to fight?"

"Ain't got much choice at this point," Daryl said.

Tex fished a small spiral notebook and pen out of the pocket of his brown suede vest and opened it on the counter. "How many fighters?"

"Richard says he can raise twenty-two," replied Daryl, looking with curiosity at the notebook as Tex began writing in it. "Twelve real fightin' men, ten who's at least willin'."

"And who's Richard? The right hand man?"

"Think so. But he and Ezekiel" - Daryl slammed his knuckles together - "butt heads. Richard's the one that done poisoned the pigs." Tex wrote down Richard's name and some words and numbers Daryl couldn't quite make out. "They got 'bout sixty people total livin' there."

"What's their arms situation?" Isaac asked.

"Only the knights got guns," Daryl told him.

Tex looked up from his notebook. " _Knights?_ "

"What they call their fighters."

Tex shook his head. "This King Ezekiel sounds like a nutcase."

"Crazy like a fox, maybe," Daryl said. "Survived with none of his people gettin' killed by the Saviors. But now's the time for fightin'."

"Let's hope he sees that clearly," Tex replied. He looked at Rick over the counter. "Do _you_?"

Rick's eyes darkened. "You've been settled safely at your ranch for two years," he told Tex. "We've been out there most of the time, dealing with threat after threat. We have _more_ than the will to fight. We have the _ability_."

"I was out there in the beginning," Tex said. "My wife and I fought our way to that ranch. And then we fought to secure and build it up. So has every other man, woman, and child who has come Green Acres. We're no strangers to the undead or to bad men. But you gave up all of Alexandria's weapons, so I have to ask where your mind is when it comes to this war."

"Fair question, Rick," Daryl muttered, though he looked at the marbled pattern of the counter top when he said it.

[*]

Maggie accompanied Carol up the porch stairs to Tobin's house. She got the impression Carol didn't want to have to deal with him alone after giving him the slip and a Dear John note. When he opened the screen door, Tobin greeted her in an uncertain, almost hollow tone. "You're back."

"Not for long," Carol said. "We need to talk about the Saviors."

Tobin opened the door all the way and invited them inside. He poured them each a cup of tea and they sat around the kitchen table, where Carol and Maggie took turns explaining the impending war. "We could use more fighters," Carol told him. "I was hoping you would join us and talk some of your fellow construction workers into joining us."

"We aren't soldiers."

"You're laborers," Carol said. "You're strong men. And some of you killed when the Wolves attacked."

Tobin looked off into a corner of the kitchen and shook his head.

"This will end everything," Carol assured him.

"You _people_ ," Tobin said, "have been promising us an end to our problems ever since you got here, and yet we only _started_ having problems _when_ you got here. And we haven't _stopped_ having problems since."

"Fine," Carol said. "If that's how you feel about it, I'll talk to your men myself." She stood.

Maggie put a hand on the table, close to Tobin's. "Please," she said. "I want a new world for my baby. This is our chance to build that world. To destroy the Saviors. This could end in something far stronger than that fence we have surrounding Alexandria. It could end in an alliance of mutual defense against all future enemies, in free trade, in our first _real_ chance at stability, peace, and prosperity."

Tobin sat back in his chair and sighed. "Okay. I'll _talk_ to them. But I can't promise you they'll fight."

"And will you fight?" Maggie asked.

Tobin nodded. "If Rick tells me where to stand, I'll stand there. If he puts a gun and my hand, and someone shoots at me, I'll shoot back. That's about all I can offer."

"That's something," Maggie told him.

Tobin walked them to the door and followed them out on the porch. Before he began heading down the stairs to go talk to the other construction workers, he paused, turned, and looked at Carol. "It's Daryl, isn't it?"

Carol shook her head slowly. "It's not Daryl. It's _me_."

"You're telling me you two aren't going to live together when all this is over?"

Maggie shifted uncomfortably on the porch and looked out over the rail at Carl Grimes, who was practicing his quick draw on the porch of the house where the others were conferring in the kitchen. Rick hadn't invited his son inside with them, and Maggie could tell the fact annoyed Carl. His pistol went back into his holster and then came out again quickly. From this distance, Maggie could not hear the click of the hammer against the dry firing cap, but she could tell that was what he was doing.

"I'm telling you I was never who you imagined me to be," Carol said. "Who I pretended to be when I was with you."

"And with Daryl you don't have to pretend?" Tobin guessed.

Carol hugged herself. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"Well, when you _use_ someone, Carol, that's typically how it ends. With you hurting them." Tobin clamored down the porch stairs and walked away, his back to her the entire time.

[*]

"My mind is on the finish line." Rick stabbed the counter top with his pointer finger. "On ending this once and for all. We have the right numbers now."

"They only got 'bout twenty more fighter's 'n all of us combined," Daryl agreed.

"And that's a hell of a lot different than when they had 180 more," Rick said.

Michonne looked at Tex, who had lowered his cowboy hat partway over his eyes. "What's our arms situation? You said you sent more ahead to the Kingdom?"

"We have one RPG, two grenades, and two bombs we've already made," Isaac answered for him. "Plenty of guns and ammo to arm the Kingdom."

"How many entrances to the Kingdom?" Michonne asked.

"Fence and school buses all 'round," Daryl told her. "'Four possible approaches. One from the woods. The front gates. Two sides."

Tex tented his fingers on the counter top. "We should have a unit at each of the four borders to meet them wherever they attack. But if they attack from only one or two approaches, we need to amass around those quickly."

"We've got four walkie talkies in the van," Isaac said. "So the unit leaders can communicate."

Sasha shook her head. " _Of course_ you do."

Isaac grinned. "We're regular Boy Scouts at Green Acres." He waved a hand from himself to her. "You should be in my unit under my command."

"No," Tex told Isaac. "You won't be in command of either of our units."

"What? Why?"

"We'll need to be in sniper position up high somewhere. Sasha will be in Daryl's unit under his command. The Alexandrians should all work as one. They know each other well. Daryl and his men should take up the rear, in the woods, because they've spent a good deal of their time in the forest and probably know how to conceal - "

"- Rick's our leader," Daryl interrupted him. "Not me."

Tex glanced at Rick skeptically, but he said, "Rick then. The Kingdom's army should be stationed near the gates and buildings because it's their home. Green Acres will form two units of nine men on either of the side borders, and we'll assign two of the Hilltop fighters to each of those units." He moved his fingertips on the counter top as if he was moving armies. "We'll put our expert snipers – me, Isaac, Jackson, and Malik – as close to the four corners of the Kingdom as possible for maximum reach."

"Don't you think we should be making these plans with King Ezekiel?" Michonne asked. "Instead of just showing up on his doorstep and telling him what's going to happen?"

"She's right," Rick said. "I wouldn't take too kindly to that." He looked at Tex pointedly. "If a man just walked into my house and started telling me how I was going to fight his war."

Tex put both palms flat down on the counter and leaned toward Rick on the other side. "Forgive me if I think the man who took out over twenty Saviors on his own doorstep should do a bit more of the planning than the _king_ who didn't even tell his people about them or the _leader_ who handed over _all_ of his guns."

Sasha took a wary step back from the counter. Isaac glanced at her, and she widened her eyes and ever so slightly shook her head.

"Tex," Isaac said softly. "We _all_ need to work _together_ on this. That was the whole idea. We don't have to fight the Saviors alone anymore."

Tex pulled his hands off the counter top but continued to look peeved.

"We should head to the Kingdom _now_ ," Rick said.

The little council dispersed.


	23. Chapter 23

Maggie sat on the front porch swing of one of the houses and watched the vehicles being loaded up. There would be a total of fifteen fighters from Alexandria now – they'd recruited well.

Tex was pacing back and forth not far from where she sat, apparently lost in thought. His cowboy hat was tipped down, as was his head. She called to him and asked, "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

He mounted the stairs and leaned back against porch railing opposite her swing.

"Sasha told me about the exchange you had with Rick in his kitchen."

"What about it?" Tex asked.

"Give Rick a chance. Please. I know it seems to you he made a poor decision about handing over the guns, but we were in different circumstances than Green Acres. We didn't have seven expert snipers and nineteen other good shots. And we already _knew_ how many Saviors there were. We didn't imagine there were less than eighty, like you did at first."

"But when we found out," Tex said. "We were still prepared to fight them."

"If the Kingdom hadn't killed almost half the Saviors with those pigs," Maggie reasoned, "if the Saviors had sent their entire force down on Green Acres, you wouldn't have survived, at least not without severe damage, burnt buildings, and a lot of people killed. By shooting Negan, you might have set off a threat that you couldn't handle on your own."

"I guess we'll never know."

"In a way, you got lucky."

Tex whipped off his cowboy hat and ran a hand roughly through his thick, blonde hair. "So you're saying I'm an incompetent leader?"

"Not at all. I think you're highly competent. You did what you felt was best for your people with the information you had in the circumstances that surrounded you. But Rick's done the _same thing_. And probably so has King Ezekiel. You should give them the benefit of the doubt."

Tex popped the crown of his cowboy hat up and down.

"You agreed with your men that your best chance was to fight this war as part of an alliance," Maggie reasoned. "So all I'm saying is – listen to the other members of the alliance. Hear what they have to say. And work together with them."

Tex popped the hat back into shape. "You're very convincing."

"Well I did earn a ten in diplomacy."

"What?"

Maggie closed her mouth tightly and regretted her slip of the tongue.

"Were you rummaging around my desk in the study and reading my private notes?"

"Sorry. It's just…they were lying right there and – "

"- They were _not_ lying right there. That notebook was _under_ the map, _closed_ , and those notes were _several pages_ in."

Shit. Now she'd pissed him off. And she'd been doing so well. So Maggie made a hail marry pass with an attempt at humor: "Well, I guess I don't have a ten for diplomacy anymore. I guess I lost a couple of points there."

To her relief, Tex chuckled. "You certainly did." He slid the hat back onto his head and chuckled again. "But maybe you'll earn them back."

Maggie smiled.

From near the C.A.T. van, Isaac whistled and then gestured to him. Tex waved back. He took a few steps toward the stairs, turned, and looked at Maggie. "I'll promise to take your advice if you'll promise to take care of yourself and that baby while we're gone."

Maggie nodded.

"I should have left you at Green Acres, where there's a good doctor."

Maggie thought it would _not_ be diplomatic to mention that the "good doctor" had not been able to save his own wife, so she said only, "I'm more comfortable staying with my people. And I'm sure if there's any complication, Father Gabriel will get me to the Hilltop. And the Hilltop doctor _is_ my doctor now."

Tex nodded. "Well, when this is all over, and after the baby's born, maybe you'll consider working for us at Green Acres on occasion. I could use a good veterinarian."

"I just grew up with the animals. I'm not actually a vet."

"You could be," he told her. "No degrees or licenses required in this world." He smiled ever so slightly, tipped his hat, and walked down the stairs.

[*]

Tex let Daryl take control of the C.A.T. van since he already knew where the Kingdom was and Isaac had given his map to Rick. Daryl was a motorcycle man at heart, but cars of all kind spoke to the little boy inside of him, and he was looking forward to driving the Secret Service vehicle. Tex called shotgun, and Isaac slid onto the far end of the bench seat before Sasha and Carol piled in next to him.

"Aww," Sasha teased Isaac. "Did you get sent to the back with the kids?"

"Tex likes having a good pair of eyes in the back of his head," Isaac replied.

The van speed forward suddenly and Carol slammed into the back of Tex's seat.

"Y'all might want to buckle up back there," Tex warned. "Daryl's like a kid in a candy store with this thing."

Carol re-situated herself and leaned over Sasha to talk to Isaac. "Daryl tells me you're T-Dog's brother."

Isaac nodded. "Small world, huh?"

"Your brother saved my life."

"Daryl told me," Isaac said. "I'm glad Theodore went out with a purpose. Too many people never get that chance."

"Some of us might get our chance tomorrow," Sasha said gravely.

The van swerved abruptly and Sasha slid into Isaac's side. He wiggled an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes and re-positioned herself.

"Didn't think sumthin' this size could turn so damn fast," Daryl said. Then he gunned the engine again and flew down the highway for many miles.

"Good thing Rick's got a map," Carol said, "or he wouldn't be able to follow us." They were about thirty minutes into the drive when Carol shouted, "Cars! Slow down!"

Daryl slowed down and maneuvered his way around the abandoned vehicles.

"Your woman's a bit of back seat driver," Tex said.

Daryl wondered if he should say anything about Tex's uses of _your woman_ , but Carol didn't, so he didn't. He glanced in the rearview mirror to read Carol's expression and thought he saw movement behind the bench seat, in the back, where the ammo was still stored. "Issac. C'mere."

Isaac stood and leaned between the two front seats, an elbow on each. "Hmm?"

"Somethin' back there," Daryl whispered.

Isaac unfastened his handgun, turned slowly, and then made an abrupt lunge around the first row of seats to the back of the van. There was noise of a struggle, and then he pulled Carl up by the ear.

"Awww…..damnit!" Daryl exclaimed. "C'mon, kid! Yer daddy's gonna shit a brick!" He slowed down and made a U-turn in the middle of the road. "And now I got to waste an hour takin' ya home."

"Then don't waste it!" Carl plead. "Come on, Daryl, man! You know I can fight. Give me one reason I shouldn't be a part of this."

"Judith," Daryl muttered

"Father Gabriel's got her. Maggie's got her. She's _fine_ in Alexandria."

"Kid looks like he'd make a better fighter than a daddy," Tex said. "I mean, he's walking around with one eye like it was nothing. And we've got Hugo fighting. I think he's even younger."

Daryl sighed.

"Come on," Carl plead. "It's too late to go back now."

"How the hell ya even sneak in there?" Daryl asked.

"See, you didn't notice me," Carl reason. "Just think how I can sneak up on the Saviors."

"Fine!" Daryl made another U-turn and headed back toward the Kingdom again. "But ya deal with yer daddy yerself when we get there."

[*]

Rick was not pleased to see Carl when he and the other Alexandrian fighters arrived in the Kingdom, twenty minutes after the C.A.T. van. They argued, but, in the end, Rick agreed to let the boy fight. King Ezekiel had finally told his people about the secret threat he had been appeasing. He now invited up to three representatives of each community to "confer" with him in the "Privy Council Chamber."

Tex chose Isaac and Jackson to join him, while Jesus was the sole representative of the small Hilltop contingent. Rick picked Daryl and Michonne, but Daryl drew him aside. "Should be Carol in there. Knows Ezekiel and Richard already, knows the Kingdom."

"Michonne should be in there," Rick insisted. "Carol ran off on us."

"Carol's a much better shot than Michonne."

"Michonne's an expert with that katana," Rick insisted.

"This ain't gonna be mostly hand to hand."

"Michonne has been trying to convince me to fight ever since they took you prisoner. Carol's been reluctant to fight for weeks. We need Michonne in on the planning."

"Ya just don't want to upset her," Daryl said. "Yer thinkin' with yer dick here, man."

"Maybe I could say the same of you?"

Daryl shook his head.

Rick walked away from him and right up to King Ezekiel, who was waiting for them all. "We need _four_ representatives in on the planning," Rick demanded.

"Very well," King Ezekiel said.

"Well then I want my man Malik in there, too," Tex told him.

"So be it," King Ezekiel replied. "I just thought it would be more efficient to have fewer voices to contend with."

As the representatives all followed King Ezekiel to his "council chamber," Tex drew up beside Rick and said, "I apologize for my arrogance earlier today. Leading people isn't easy. It's a heavy responsibility and a man can always second guess himself. I hope we can be good allies." He held out his hand sideways to Rick as they walked.

Rick took it and shook. "I certainly wouldn't want to be your enemy."

Ezekiel brought Richard and two other knights with him, and they met around a long table in a conference room of the school, where Ezekiel sat in an impressive desk chair and everyone else was given simple arm chairs. Tex looked at the desk chair, then at the arm chairs, then back to the desk chair. "Is this guy for real?" he asked as Daryl sat down next to him.

"Just roll with it," Daryl said in a low voice. "Don't have time to do nothin' 'cept play along. 'Sides, he's done a'right for his people."

Tex nodded.

The conference took about an hour, and they determined their plan of defense. "You're going to need a bucket brigade of some kind," Tex told Ezekiel. "Every able-bodied adult who's not in the fight should be assigned to it. The children too, if they aren't too young. My snipers will make it a priority to take out any man with an RPG, but one or two may make it over your gates. And who knows how many grenades they have."

King Ezekiel sighed heavily. He turned to Richard. "I wish we had not brought this war upon ourselves."

"There ain't no appeasin' the Saviors," Daryl said. "Not for long anyhow. They _always_ want more."

The next order of business was assigning "sleeping quarters" for the night for King Ezekiel's "most honored guests." Carol said that Rick and Michonne could have the guest bedroom in her little house and Carl could have the couch. She didn't mention Daryl until King Ezekiel tried to assign him a "chamber" in the school, at which point she said, "No, Daryl will be staying at my house, too."

Daryl studied his hands on the conference table. He wondered if that meant they would also be sharing her bed, but he wasn't about to ask.


	24. Chapter 24

The rest of the afternoon was spent in preparation for the war: positioning bombs and booby traps, distributing weapons, gathering fire extinguishers from throughout the school, filling buckets, and conferring with unit leaders. Those who were better at hand-to-hand combat - including Michonne, Morgan, and Jesus - would be lining the school building itself, to prevent a breech should the Saviors break through the borders and flood into the Kingdom. In that building would be those too young, too old, or too ill to fight, as well as an emergency clinic for anyone who was injured in the fray.

It was agreed they would all assume their positions shortly before sunrise, since the exact time of the planned attack was unknown. But before they departed to their separate rests, the entire Kingdom and its warrior guests gathered for a "royal feast and bonfire."

[*]

 _Mine eyes have seen the glory_  
 _of the coming of the Lord;_  
 _he is trampling out the vintage_  
 _where the grapes of wrath are stored;_  
 _he hath loosed the fateful lightning_  
 _of his terrible swift sword;_  
 _his truth is marching on._

The innocent, angelic voices of the acapella choir contrasted sharply with the words they were singing, and Sasha felt a shiver run through her arms and raise the hair at the nape of her neck. She was sitting in the gazebo in the Kingdom's courtyard and eating from a plate on her lap, because the picnic tables were all full.

 _He has sounded forth the trumpet_  
 _that shall never call retreat;_  
 _he is sifting out the hearts of men_  
 _before his judgment seat..._

Sasha had heard this song in church half a dozen times as a girl, usually around the 4th of July or Memorial Day, but she'd never actually paid attention to the lyrics before. She wondered if anyone else was disturbed by the words the way she was. Jackson had wandered off inside the school with a woman from the Kingdom. Tobin was sitting on a picnic blanket on the grass in the courtyard and laughing with a female fighter from the Hilltop. Young Hugo was writing notes back and forth with a teenage girl where they sat on a bench in front of one of the trashcan bonfires. Malik and Rosita appeared to be playing some kind of sultry game of cat and mouse beneath a tree, and even Carol and Daryl were exchanging secret smiles across the picnic table. Sasha wondered if anyone was actually listening to the words.

 _In the beauty of the lilies_  
 _Christ was born across the sea,_  
 _with a glory in his bosom_  
 _that transfigures you and me;_  
 _as he died to make men holy,_  
 _let us die to make men free!_

"Do you know any Temptations songs?" Isaac shouted to the group as he headed toward the gazebo. After he mounted the stairs and sat down on the bench seat next to Sasha, the little choir began humming and snapping and singing:

 _I´ve got sunshine_  
 _On a cloudy day._  
 _When it´s cold outside,_  
 _I´ve got the month of May._

"That's what I'm talking about!" Isaac boomed, and Sasha felt the heaviness lift from her.

 _I guess you'd say,  
_ _What can make me feel this way?  
_ _My girl (my girl, my girl)  
_ _Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl)._

"I hear there's going to be a court jester later," Isaac told her.

"Really?" Sasha asked.

He laughed. "No. But I wouldn't be surprised."

Sasha shook her head. "This place is something else. Reminds me of a Renaissance Festival."

"Well let's hope those knights aren't play acting tomorrow."

[*]

Daryl concentrated on eating while Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Tara chattered mindlessly around him at the picnic table. Carol watched him, caught his eyes from time to time, and smiled. When she did, he couldn't help but smile back.

The food wasn't bad for a last meal, but it was nowhere near as good as the grub Green Acres served. When he was done with his dinner, Daryl savored his ration of beer, taking small sips, until Carol rose from the picnic table and stretched. "Think I'm going to hit the hay early. Daryl, will you walk me back?"

Daryl drained his cup of beer in one long, eager sip and stood.

"The key to the house is under the door mat," Carol told Rick. "The guest bedroom is the first door on the right down the main hall. There are extra blankets for Carl in the linen closet. We'll probably already be asleep when you get there."

"Mhmmm…." Michonne said with a smile.

"Early morning tomorrow, you know," Carol told her.

"Oh yeah," Michonne agreed. "Got to hit that hay. _Hard_."

Tara laughed, and Carl looked from Carol to Daryl like he'd just had a revelation. "Wish Enid was here," the boy muttered.

[*]

Sasha's attention was again drawn to Rosita and Malik by the tree. Rosita was doing that bobbing head thing she did when she was angry and upbraiding someone. Malik stood before her in a bored stance, his arms crossed over his chest, looking darkly amused. Rosita's head stopped bobbing and she seemed to wait for some response.

Malik's deep, dismissive laughed rumbled out and drifted toward the gazebo. He grabbed Rosita by the waist and thrust her against himself and then lowered his head to whisper something in her ear. She pushed him away. Malik shrugged and turned and walked away. After looking sullen for a while, Rosita followed him.

"I suppose Malik's getting laid tonight," Isaac said.

"Rosita's a serious handful."

"So's Malik. He used to be an interrogator. C.I.A."

"Really?" Sasha raised an eyebrow. How had all the bad ass government types ended up at Green Acres, while Alexandria had only gotten the senator and a couple of staffers? It seemed unjust somehow.

"So he knows how to manipulate people."

"Well, he may have met his match in Rosita," Sasha said.

"I think he'll handle her just fine." Isaac leaned back against the wooden wall of the gazebo and sighed. He lifted a mug to his lips, sipped, winced, and lowered it. "King Ezekiel called this mead, but I think it's just Bud Light." He sipped again.

"I'm not drinking," Sasha insisted. "I want my head clear for the morning."

"We only get one cup a person, anyway. I'll take yours."

"Mighty generous of you," Sasha said with a smirk.

"Either of us might die tomorrow, you know. This could be our last meal. Our last…" He wiggled his eyebrow. "Everything."

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight, if that's what you're suggesting. Pretty sure I won't regret the missed opportunity if I'm dead."

"But you might if _I'm_ dead."

Sasha laughed. "Can you be serious for a minute?"

He nodded.

"You're cute," she told him. "And you seem like a nice guy. But I just lost the love of my life three weeks ago."

"Okay," he said softly. "I'll back off."

"I'm not saying don't try again in a couple of months, if we're both still standing."

Isaac smiled. They looked away from each other at the sound of bootsteps on the stairs that led up to the gazebo. Tex sat down across from them and put his mug of 'mead' on the bench beside himself. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Unfortunately, no," Isaac said.

"You could leave this poor woman alone and go mingle with the royal subjects. Quite a few single women out there. Looks like Malik and Jackson already found themselves some company. Even Hugo is dancing with some girl right now."

The choir had by now shifted to "Brown Eyed Girl." A single couplet jumped out at Sasha:

 _So hard to find my way_  
 _Now that I'm all on my own..._

"You could probably manage to find some company, too," Tex concluded.

"I kind of like the company I've got," said Isaac, glancing at Sasha. "Even if it's only the friendly variety."

Tex took off his hat and rested it on his knee.

"How old is Hugo's new little girlfriend?" Isaac asked him.

"You know I'm age-challenged." Tex looked at Sasha. "Maggie's not _really_ only twenty-six is she?"

"I haven't checked her driver's license," Sasha said, "but I can't imagine why she'd make that up. I'm only 29."

"Really?" Isaac asked.

"Oh, yeah. I've turned 29 for the past six years."

Isaac chuckled.

"And you're less than forty," Sasha said to Tex. She'd done the math on his marriage. "Why are you talking as if you're an old man?"

"Because I _feel_ like an old man," Tex said. "I was married almost two decades, and I'm a _widower_ already. And too many people depend on me." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and raised his voice to be heard over the choir. "We have to win this thing tomorrow! End it. Once and for all. In honor of Tammy."

"We will, Tex," Isaac assured him. "We will."

[*]

Carol lit the candelabra on the nightstand by her bed. She set her battery-operated alarm clock for 5:00 a.m. And then, her back to Daryl, she began to undress.

His breath caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth as he watched her. Boots first, then socks. Her button-down shirt slid off her shoulders, slipped to the floor, and pooled. She was dressed for the rough world, and yet he felt like he was watching a sexy strip tease. The pants came off next. She reached around herself an undid the clip of her bra, and the silky fabric fell to the ground.

Daryl's erection strained against his zipper, but he couldn't seem to move. His eyes swept past the marks of Ed's abuse and fell to her firm ass as she stepped slowly out of her panties.

Carol turned, completely naked, the candles bathing her pale flesh with shadowy flecks of light. "Your turn."

Daryl still couldn't move.

She smiled gently, walked over, and put a hand on his belt buckle. "Want me to help?"

"Mhmmh."

She unlatched the buckle slowly. In the process, her wrist brushed against his erection. Daryl's eyes shot closed.

"You asked if _I_ liked it," she said. "But I never asked if _you_ liked it." She popped his button free and, with two fingers, gripped the zipper of his pants. When he opened his eyes again, she lowered hers, almost shyly. "Did you?"

"I…" _Aw hell._ He couldn't seem to make words for some reason. "I uhh…"

She pulled the zipper down with a rasp. "Do you like this?" She slid her hand inside the waistband of his boxers.

He moaned.

She began to touch him in gentle, teasing strokes. "Do you?"

Something like an animal's whimper escaped his throat. "Mhmhm. Hell yeah. I like. I like I like I like…."

[*]

Sasha's "chamber" was next to Isaac's in the school. She was given a sleeping bag, a pad, and two pillows and left to her rooms. The floor was hard, even cushioned by the pad, but Sasha she could endure that. She'd slept plenty of nights on the earth. It was the _size_ of the room that bothered her. After the tiny cells at the prison, the tight campsites, and eventually sharing a bedroom with Abraham in Alexandria, the room simply felt too big.

She gathered her bedding and knocked on Isaac's door. He answered in nothing but plaid boxers and a white T-shirt, though he held a handgun at his side. "This is _not_ an invitation to sex," she told him. "It's just...the room's too big."

"I'm used to rooming with three other guys myself." He opened the door wide. "Plenty of room for you on the throw rug. I promise to keep my hands to myself."

She smiled and came inside to settle her sleeping bag next to his. They talked on and off for the next hour, like kids at a slumber party, falling asleep between words.

[*]

Sometime in the middle of the night, Daryl awoke to the feel of Carol's fingertip's tickling his bare thigh. He never imagined he could be comfortable sleeping completely naked with a woman, but here he was.

"Are you awake?" she asked.

"Am now."

"I can't sleep. Want to help me get back to sleep?"

"What?" he asked. "Ya want me to read ya a bedtime story or somethin'?"

Carol's breath was hot on his bare shoulder when she snort-laughed. "No. I want you to have sex with me again. Seems to have worked for you. You were snoring within ten seconds."

He rolled on his side, his lips twitching into and involuntary smile. "What if it don't work and yer still awake after?"

"Then I guess we'll have to do it again," she teased. "Third time's a charm."

[*]

The morning came too soon. The inhabitants of Carol's little house armed themselves silently and ate breakfast without a word.

Heavy dew lined the grass, and the air was cool, as the five of them made their way across Carol's lawn to the dirt road that would lead them back to the Kingdom. The stars still shone, though they were beginning to fade into the hints of the coming sun. Nature was strangely quiet, and an eerie calm seemed to have settled over the school yard when the knights let them through the gates.

Within an hour, everyone was in place.


	25. Chapter 25

At the front of the school, Michonne paced, her hand opening and closing over her sheathed katana. A few yards in front of her, nearer the gate, King Ezekiel stood, Jesus on one side, and Morgan on the other. All three were ready for a breach of the walls.

Outside the gates, Richard and his men crouched behind buses and hid in ditches, fingers off their triggers, but ready to fire at a moment's notice.

On top of the school's gym, near the eastern corner, Isaac scanned the horizon through the scope of his sniper's rifle. On top of the school's theater, near the western corner, Jackson did the same. From the platform that lined the wall of the front gates, Tex slid the safety off his rifle, and Malik waited patiently on the roof of a storage building near the back fence.

In the woods along the back of the school, Carl scaled a tree. He was lighter than the adults, and so he could get farther up in the tree branches. He found the highest spot he could safely reach, and there he scoured the area with a pair of binoculars. A long way below, on the cool, hard earth, sat Daryl, crossbow in hand, his back to the rough bark, waiting.

Rick stood three trees over, the walkie talkie clipped to one side of his belt, a handgun to the other, rifle on his shoulder, like in the old days, when he was still a sheriff's deputy.

Carol kept checking the chamber of her rifle, as if to make sure it was really loaded.

Aaron kept shifting his head, as though trying to catch some sound with his ears.

Rosita situated her hat carefully on her head.

Tara unsnapped the holster on her hip.

Sasha closed her eyes and moved her lips in a silent prayer.

And sixty miles away, Glenn's baby stirred suddenly in Maggie's womb. The expectant mother smiled at the unexpected movement, put her hand over her belly, and whispered, "I can't wait to meet you." She imagined her infant, born into hope, bursting its way into a world without the Saviors.

[*]

Branches crunched loudly in the tree above, springing and crackling as Carl came climbing quickly down. Daryl stood abruptly, and the teenager slid the last few feet with an _ugh_ and _oomph_ and a nasty burn from the bark.

Carl landed on his ass on the ground. The binoculars bounced against his chest. "Two groups," he said between his ragged breaths. "One heading toward the east side, and one toward the west side. Evenly split."

Daryl grasped Carl's hand and yanked him up from the ground. "Good job, kid." Leave it to the one-eyed boy to make the best watchman.

"We should move," Carol said.

Rick got on the walkie talkie and informed the other unit leaders of the approaching Saviors. "I'll send half my people to each side." He swiftly divided his forces by pointing, and they ran in opposite directions through the forest to fortify the two borders that would soon be under attack.

[*]

In the days and weeks and months to come, everyone would tell a different version of the story that unraveled. Different scenes would lodge themselves like an echo in the corner of each survivor's mind.

Isaac would remember the bombs failing to explode when he pressed the remote.

King Ezekiel would remember the RPG that landed on the theater and burned down his beloved throne room before the fire was contained by the scurrying bucket brigade. Malik would remember it even more vividly, because it would kill his best friend Jackson.

Rick would remember a large hole blasted in the fence, the fire dying on the gravely ground where it landed, and the Saviors flooding in. He would recall Isaac taking out a second man who was readying an RPG, and then Tara running through the hole in the fence to claim the fallen weapon, firing it boldly into half a dozen Saviors, and being shot to death in the process.

Jesus would remember ignoring every chivalrous instinct within his being to spiral kick a woman in the face. She was about to toss a hand grenade into a stream of fighters, but the kick from Jesus sent it flying in the other direction. He lost his hat and half his beautiful hair – but no part of his life - in the explosion that followed.

Tex would remember struggling to get a lock on a Savior with an RPG, only to watch the man taken out first by Ezekiel's pet tiger, which had been set loose on the invading army when the walls were breached.

Daryl would remember the way Carol ran _toward_ the gunfire, and how she emerged from the smoke with two bullet holes in the tail of her coat, but none in her flesh.

Sasha would remember Aaron's dying words, whispered in her ear, a plea to tell Eric that he loved him.

Michonne would remember dropping her katana when Carl came staggering toward the school and its infirmary, carrying the crumpled body of a boy who was almost the same size as himself. She would never forget taking the barely breathing Hugo from Carl's faltering grasp, or watching the mute boy's silent scream when the doctor worked out the bullet from his stomach.

Carol would remember the almost crazed look of pride in Tobin's eyes as he took down his first Savior, and then the flicker of utter surprise that eclipsed it when a bullet flew into his own chest. She would remember Daryl, forgetting any jealousy he may have ever felt, trying to carry the fallen man to the infirmary, only to slide to his knees in defeat when Tobin stopped breathing, unshoulder his rifle, and return to the fray with an angry cry.

Rosita would remember the lie she later told Eugene - that _his_ bullet had killed Simon. The truth was that she had never even loaded that bullet into her gun, and Simon was overwhelmed by such a barrage of gunfire that it was impossible to know who killed him.

They would all remember the plodding, dirty work that followed the aftermath of battle: putting out the last of the fires, digging the graves for their fallen martyrs, surveying the damage, tending to the wounded, and dragging out the Saviors' bodies, one by one, to mount them in a grim pile. They would remember the flames that licked the bodies of their enemies and turned them once and for all into ash.

[*]

The theater and one of the portable classrooms burned to the ground, but thanks to the well-prepared bucket brigade, most of the Kingdom was spared.

Fifteen men and women were buried in the Kingdom's cemetery that night. King Ezekiel quoted Shakespeare, saying, "Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o'er wrought heart and bids it break." But no one _could_ give their sorrow words, not that night. There were no speeches – only sniffles and stares.

Alexandria had lost Aaron, Tobin, Tara, and a construction worker named Joe. Green Acres lost four men, including Jackson. The Hilltop had lost two. And the Kingdom buried five, among them Richard. Eleven more lay recovering in the infirmary, including Hugo, who finally had his chance to finish _The Brother's Karamazov,_ though he spent most of his recovery time exchanging notes with a pretty girl who was awed by his bravery.

That night, there was no lovemaking, but Carol laced herself tightly through Daryl's limbs in bed, and they lay awake together, long into the night, until Carol broke the silence: "It's over," she said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. "It's _finally_ over."

Daryl encircled her more tightly in his arms, until he could feel her heart beating softly against the old scars on his chest. "But we ain't over."

"No," Carol whispered softly. "We've just begun."


	26. Chapter 26

Daryl enjoyed killing walkers in the same way an eight-year-old boy might enjoy pushing a button on a game controller and blasting away everything in his path. There was a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment at the end of the trail of bodies, and the more he did it, the more skilled he became. He set goals for himself, and by the end of the purging of the Sanctuary, he had beat his old kill-and-recover time of 4.5 seconds.

The Saviors, confident that they would be back for more once the Kingdom lay in smoldering ruins, had left much behind. Isaac whistled as he surveyed the goods they'd gathered and dragged out onto the loading dock. There were eighty, five-gallon containers of gas, batteries of all shapes and sizes, several shortwave radios, various medicines, and piles upon piles of canned food.

Sasha pointed to the radios. "We should use those to set up a communication system between the four communities. I have my ham radio license."

"Well, good," Isaac replied. "I'm glad you're licensed. Because we wouldn't want the government fining us."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "I just meant I know _how_ to use them. We should set up a message relay-system of some kind."

"My bitches'll love these."

"Excuse me?" Sasha turned to see Tex holding a can of dog food. "Oh."

"Dunno they will," Daryl told him. "That's some cheap ass dog food. Had better when I's a kid."

Tex didn't ask him why he had ever eaten dog food as a child. The answer was probably obvious enough.

Daryl circled the pile of supplies like a lion circling its kill. "Alexandria should get more of this shit, since I done most the clearin'."

Jesus, whose eyes seemed even bigger now that he had short hair, looked at Daryl with mild annoyance. "The rest of us killed our fair share, too."

"Let's divided it evenly," Isaac suggested. "In four."

"Ain't even no one from the Kingdom here," Daryl growled. "We divide it in _three_."

"They're helping to loot the outpost," Tex reasoned.

Rick, Carol, Michonne, and two knights of the Kingdom had gone ahead to Mount Vernon to check out what remained there. A third group, consisting of Malik, Rosita, and Carl (who wanted to do something independent of his father's direction for a change) had gone to Bethesda to make sure that outpost was truly abandoned and that it really had rolled into the Mount Vernon group.

"Mount Vernon ain't crawlin' with walkers," Daryl said. "Probably ain't no one left there but some pretty women in pearls and a couple of eunuchs to guard 'em." That was assuming Negan kept a back-up harem at the outpost for when he was visiting or perhaps to reward the men there, and Daryl suspected he did.

"Isaac's right," Tex said. "Evenly dividing the spoils of war is the best way to cement our alliance going forward. Let's not jockey over who fought harder or killed more."

"Fine," Daryl muttered. "But who's takin' the women? We dividin' them evenly, too?"

"What?" Sasha asked. "I'm _sure_ you can't mean that the way it sounded."

"He means," Tex said, "who's going to assume the responsibility for them? The women in these harems aren't likely the most productive sorts. And clearly they aren't fighters anymore, if they ever were. So they're going to be at least a temporary burden on whoever takes them in. Until they can learn some useful skill, they'll be consuming more than they contribute. And Green Acres is already short on rooms."

"But we've always taken in refugees," Isaac reminded him.

"We can take 'em," Daryl said. "Lots of empty rooms." Between the Wolves and the Saviors, Alexandria had lost half its initial population.

"You know what?" Sasha held up one hand like a stop sign. "Why don't we wait to find out how many women there actually _are_ before we start divvying them up like chattel?"

"This is the apocalypse," Isaac told her. "This is neither the time nor the place to be applying your Women's Studies degree."

Sasha pressed her lips into a rigid, frowning line – almost. One end curved. "I was a business major, thank you very much."

"Want to guess what I majored in?" Isaac asked.

"Well, we know it wasn't _Communications_ ," she quipped.

Daryl wandered off to get the empty truck the Saviors had left behind, but he didn't bring it to the loading dock. First, he backed it up to the motorcycles. When the others finally meandered over to him, he was already loading in a third.

Sasha asked, "How many motorcycles can you possibly _need_?"

Daryl's boots hit the ground with a thud as he jumped out of the back of the truck. "Need me a back-up for when I'm workin' on mine. Need another to teach Carl to ride." He seized the handlebars of fourth bike and began rolling it up the ramp to the truck. "Need five more for spare parts."

"Boys and their toys," Sasha muttered.

"Well _I_ want one," Isaac called into the truck after him. "How about you, Tex?"

"I'm not much for the _iron_ horse," he replied. "I'm a rancher. I prefer flesh and blood between my legs."

"So do I," said Isaac, smiling at Sasha.

"You need _a lot_ more practice with your one-liners," she told him. "You're just damn lucky you're cute."

[*]

Daryl's group was the first to arrive in Alexandria, which had been selected as the rendezvous point because of its nearly equal distance between the Kingdom and Green Acres. They ate a leisurely lunch, but soon enough Daryl was anxious to see Carol safely returned. He paced the dusty earth near the front of Alexandria. The metallic noise of those gates rolling open had never been more welcome.

Two large supply trucks rumbled inside. Carol was the first to step out of one. Daryl went to her immediately, leaned forward instinctively, but then pulled back.

"It's okay," she said, "no one's watching." She grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him in for a kiss, but when her lips left his, people _were_ watching. At least, that's what Daryl thought at first, before he realized they were looking at the well-dressed women who spilled out of the truck after Michonne. One stumbled in her high heels and then righted herself by grabbing the slender arm of another.

"Come on," Michonne told them. "We'll get you some practical footwear and give you a tour of Alexandria." The women followed Michonne, quietly and timidly. The eyes of some were red from crying.

"Ain't they glad to be free?" Daryl asked.

"Not as glad as you might think," Carol said. "Three of them were taken from their husbands. We killed those men in the war."

"Ain't like we had a choice."

"I'm not saying they want _revenge,_ but they're in mourning."

Daryl nodded to the trucks. "Ya did even better'n us."

Half of Alexandria came out to ogle the spoils when the truck doors were rolled open. The plunder was, after some arguing and haggling, divided up among the four communities. They were just about finished with the inventory when Rosita and Carl's crew returned.

Rick hugged his son gratefully.

Carl endured his father's embrace for a few seconds before gently pushing the man away. "Told you I'd be fine, Dad."

"Your boy did well," Rosita told Rick. "It's time to cut the apron strings on this one."

Rick nodded, his eyes lit with both fear and pride. "What did you find in Bethesda?"

"It was cleared out," Carl said. "Looks like they took everything with them to Mount Vernon."

Malik drew up next to Rosita. "And Mount Vernon?"

"We killed five guards," Carol answered. "And rescued six women. There was no one else there."

Malik's voice was businesslike. "Then the threat has likely been eliminated."

"How can we know for sure, though?" Rick asked.

"I can talk to the women," Malik said. "See what information I can obtain from -"

"- _You_ are _not_ talking to those women," Carol told him. " _I'll_ talk to them. Or Maggie. Or Michonne. Or some other woman, and only _after_ they've had a chance to calm their nerves."

Malik raised an eyebrow, but he didn't contradict her.

"Even if there is still another outpost somewhere," Isaac said, "after what we did to their people...the Saviors aren't going to want to take on our combined forces. They'll probably move on to prey on weaker communities."

"So we're in agreement, then?" Rick asked, looking around at the representatives of the other communities. "From now on, an attack against one is an attack against all?"

Stephen, one of the knights of the Kingdom and Ezekiel's right hand man now that Richard was dead, nodded. So did Tex. Jesus alone hesitated. "You know I can't speak for the Hilltop."

"If we don't have the Hilltop's commitment to come to our aid," Rick said, "then you can't have ours."

"I'll talk to Gregory."

"And what do we do with the..." Rick winced at the word - " _wives_?"

"We can take three," Tex said. "If you can take three."

"They shouldn't be broken up," Carol insisted. "After the abuse they've been through together, they've probably formed a bond and will feel safer as a unit. I say we let them _all_ stay here, _if_ they want. We put them in Eric's house, assuming he's willing. He has three extra bedrooms, and he's alone now. He probably wouldn't mind the company. And they're going to feel a lot more comfortable staying with a man they know isn't going to be sexually attracted to them."

They left the details to be worked out later, and Rick extended an invitation to everyone to stay the night before returning to their separate communities in the morning. "We'll have a feast," he told them. "Courtesy of the Saviors."


	27. Chapter 27

Dinner was a buffet-style smorgasbord of canned and jarred foods from the Sanctuary, which had been spread out all over Rick's kitchen counters. People roamed from dining room to kitchen to living room, eating, drinking, and talking.

On the front porch, Daryl sat down next to Carol on the bench swing, picked up a vienna sausage from his plate, tossed it into his mouth, and swallowed it in one gulp, after which he belched.

"We're going to have to work on your manners," she said.

"Ya naggin' me already?" he asked. "We ain't even moved in together yet."

"Are we _planning_ to?"

He tossed a green olive in his mouth and chewed it very slowly, because as soon as he swallowed it, he was going to have to answer. To avoid looking at Carol, he looked out over the porch railing at Eric's house, where the rescued women were being settled. "Ya want to?"

"Do _you_?"

He felt like this was some kind of test, and he had to answer right way. It irritated him. She should just answer his damn question. "Don't wanna live in yer weird little house outside the Kingdom. Our people...they's all here."

"I'm willing to come back to Alexandria."

"Don't wanna live in that house you shared with Tobin neither."

"Rick thinks we should start combining households to reduce our energy consumption," Carol said. "Shut down the lights and heat and air in the empty houses, unless and until there are people to fill them. He's thinking long-term."

"That's why he's the boss."

"I thought we could stay _here_." She nodded back to the front window of Rick's house. "Michonne said we could. There's an extra bedroom. I can help with Judith sometimes. So can you. I mean, let's be honest…Judith likes you better than she does Rick."

Daryl ducked his head, but he couldn't hide his smile with his long hair anymore. Carol smiled back.

Feeling relieved that particular conversation was over and that they'd settled on a living arrangement that satisfied her, he shoveled more food into his mouth, eating silently until he noticed that Carol seemed a bit solemn. "Ya a'ight?"

"It was _women_ guarding the harem." She shook her head. "I just hadn't expected that. We shot three armed women. There was only two men at the entire outpost. Those female guards could have just…" She sighed. "But women go along with abuse all the time, don't they? God knows I did."

"Don't. Don't do that. That's over. We get to start over. Ya said so."

She nodded. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "It makes me sick, what they did to those women." She shook her head. "But I guess the really surprising thing is that more men _don't_ do that in this lawless world."

"Most men ain't like that," Daryl said. " _Ed_ weren't the _norm_. Most of us…we don't wanna force some woman to be with us. Just wanna protect the ones we love."

Carol slid closer and lay her head on his shoulder. He set his mostly empty plate down on the porch swing next to himself and stretched an arm around her. Affection didn't come naturally to him, and yet the act was unstrained. After digging his boot against the plank of the porch, he pushed off, and the seat swung lightly. The motion reminded Daryl of his first gentle ride on a tire swing, when he was just four, before his mama started drinking, and his daddy started beating, and Merle started using…of a time when the world was still innocent, and the future stretched ahead of him like a blank slate waiting to be filled.

[*]

Maggie was taking a break from all the noise inside the house. She sat on the rocking chair on Rick's back porch and looked out over his lawn at the floating sea of flashing light. There were more fireflies than she ever remembered seeing on the farm, even in her childhood. Nature was changing. Some things were dying out, and others were surging.

"Does the baby like chocolate?"

Maggie turned to see the screen door creaking shut and Tex stretching out half a bar of foil-wrapped chocolate. Tex laughed when she snatched the chocolate from his hand. He leaned back against the porch rail opposite her while she took one satisfied bite and savored the bitter-sweet sensation on her tongue.

"Hope it's not too dark for you," he said.

She shook her head and closed her eyes while biting down again. It was a bit stale, but still delicious. When she swallowed she opened her eyes and said, "I didn't see this in the kitchen, or I would have taken it all."

"It's from my private stash." He patted the front pocket of his plaid shirt. "Always bring it with me, in case I ever have to bribe a pregnant woman."

"What do you need to bribe me for?"

"I want you to talk to Rick. I understand Alexandria has a few skilled construction workers, a plumber, and an electrician. I need to build a dormitory at Green Acres. Plenty of people are sleeping three or four men to a room. A couple of survivors usually stumble upon us every two months or so. We're always growing."

"And what are you proposing to offer in return for their services?"

"We'll feed them while they're there, of course, but we're hoping their services will pay for those guns and ammo we gave you."

Maggie smiled and shook her head. "You realize, don't you, that we can give you those guns back now? After dividing the spoils, we'd still have plenty of guns without the ones you gave us."

"But you already made use of them. And you used up a lot of ammunition. You can't give _that_ back."

"We used it fighting a mutual war," Maggie countered. "That was as much to your benefit as ours."

"A mutual war for which we _armed_ you," Tex emphasized.

"You'll have to offer us at least a little more than forgiving us our debt." She smiled. "How much more of this chocolate do you have?"

He chuckled. "Not enough. I have some fine whiskey. Is Rick a drinking man?"

"Not really. Not that I know of. But that will go far with Gregory at the Hilltop."

Tex took off his cowboy hat and draped it on the post of the empty rocking chair next to hers. He sat down, stretched out his legs, and appeared to be thinking.

"We could use a few chickens of our own," Maggie suggested. "To start a little coop here. Fresh eggs. The Hilltop has one. Carol says the Kingdom has one. You have an _enormous_ one. You could spare us…five chickens?"

"Three."

"Four."

"Sold, to the soon-to-be mama in the rocking chair." He held out his hand, and she shook.

Maggie broke off another piece of chocolate. "Now I just have to convince Rick and all the construction workers."

[*]

Daryl could sense a presence in his sleep. The ability arose from hundreds of nights of camping in the woods, even before the collapse of everything. The sheet fell to his waist, exposing his bare, scarred chest, as he seized his already loaded crossbow and swung it toward the door frame. He made out Jesus just in time to take his finger off the trigger.

Jesus held up his hands. "We need to talk."

Carol stirred beside him in bed. Daryl reached over with one hand and yanked the sheet up to her neck as she began to sit, to make sure her bare breasts were not exposed. "What the fuck ya doin' in our bedroom!" He shouted.

"Like I said, we need to talk. It's important."

"Cain't ya fuckin' knock? Get the hell out!"

"Sorry for the intrusion. But if you would just meet me downstairs in a minute. It's _important_." Jesus retreated from the door frame.

"Creepy, pervy fuck!" Daryl muttered.

Carol yawned and stretched. "Apparently we need to start locking our door."


	28. Chapter 28

When Daryl got downstairs, the major players from all four communities were sitting or standing around the living room and looking tense. But that didn't stop him from storming up to Jesus, until his face was an inch away. "Ya ever burst in on my woman again like that while she's in bed - and I swear to God, I'll - "

"-Daryl!" Rick sounded like a father scolding an angry child.

Daryl stepped back, his eyes still flames, and found Carol standing before the end table, casting him a look that was part amusement, part chastisement. He came and stood beside her, his anger simmering down to a slow burn.

" _Your woman_ , huh?" she whispered.

Daryl searched her eyes, but she seemed amused, and not angered, by his word choice.

"We've got a problem," Rick said. "Three of those women we rescued from the harem took off in the middle of the night with a rifle and one of our pick-up trucks."

"How?" Daryl asked. "Didn't we leave a guard at that house?"

"Jonathan," Michonne answered. He had been a former security guard and had stayed behind to keep watch over Alexandria during the war. "It looks like maybe they seduced him after Eric was asleep. Offered him...a little fun. In the process, they got hold of his rifle, which has a silencer, and shot him. Eric didn't even wake up."

"They shot the guard on the wall as well," Rick explained. "Mark." He was one of the construction workers who had fought in the war. He'd survived that horror, only to be shot down within his own gates.

"They took one of the work pick-up trucks," Michonne said. "The keys were still under the visor." The workers often left them there so if someone needed the vehicle, they wouldn't have to chase down the last driver.

"Fuck," Daryl muttered. "And the other three?"

"They're still here," Rick said. "One of them found Jonathan's body when she got up to go to the bathroom. She woke up Eric, and he came and got me. They claim they had nothing to do with it, that they were asleep when it happened, and that they don't ever want to go back to the Saviors."

Malik, who stood with one arm slung over the mantle, leveled his cool, dark eyes on Carol. "I told you I should question the women."

"They've been put through a psychological wringer by the Saviors," Carol replied. "I just didn't want – "

"- You imagine these women to be unwilling," Malik interrupted her. "But how goes the poem? She who complies against her will / is of her own opinion still."

Carol took an angry step toward him. Daryl placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Let 'em say his piece."

Carol stilled.

"Members of a harem live in the lap of luxury in comparison to those who surround them," Malik said. "They are fed well, clothed well, and do not have to work dangerous jobs. To be a wife of a powerful man is a position of prominence. Even if we had not destroyed their people and looted their home, even if they were disgusted by Negan and Simon...even then, they might not see their liberation as a gift. They might _fear_ their liberty. Perhaps a warrior such as yourself cannot possibly understand that."

Carol swallowed. "Unfortunately, I understand that fear all too well. But I didn't think they would..." She shook her head. "Where do you think they're going?"

"I imagine they are going to another outpost we know nothing about."

"You said we eliminated the threat."

"I said we _likely_ eliminated the threat. And I said I did not _think_ the Saviors would attempt to attack us again. I still do not. It would be foolish for them to do so. Yet who knows how far vengeance may compel them. We had better be sure. We must find this outpost."

"I can track 'em," Daryl said. "The women."

"So can I," Tex volunteered. "I've done my share of hunting."

Rick grabbed his rifle. "I'll go, too."

"I will talk to the remaining women," Malik informed them. "The ones who chose to stay. I will determine what I can determine."

Carol didn't object this time, but she breathed in and put a hand on her stomach.

"I will not _torture_ them," Malik assured her. "If you would like to sit in on the interrogation, you – "

"- No," Carol said.

"I would," Sasha said. "I'd like to sit in."

Malik look surprised, but he nodded.

[*]

Malik led Sasha toward Eric's house as the sun finished rising in a blinding kaleidoscope of color over the roof. "You may observe," he said. "But do not speak. At all."

"I'm just curious to learn a new skill."

"It took me seventeen years to perfect this skill. You will not learn it today. But you may observe."

"Okay. I hear you." Sasha wondered what Rosita saw in this man. He was good-looking, in a swarthy, brooding sort of way, but his bedside manner left much to be desired, and he lacked humility. Of course, in that sense, Sasha supposed, they were peas in a pod.

When they stepped into Eric's house, the three remaining women were sitting nervously side-by-side on the sofa. Carl stood leaned against the wall, a rifle in his hand, guarding them. Through the open door frame, Sasha could see Eric shuffling around in the kitchen.

"Leave us," Malik told Carl. He called into the kitchen, "You, too. Out the back door." Carl and Eric departed.

Malik's demeanor changed. His voice softened. So did his eyes, almost as if a backstage lighting technician was fiddling with switches somewhere behind those brown orbs. "This is my friend Sasha," he told the women. "She is going to sit with us while we chat so that you ladies feel more comfortable." He motioned to a chair, and Sasha took it. Malik took the arm chair next to the couch, rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward in a confidential manner. "You must be frightened," he said, "knowing what those women did last night. You must be afraid we think you support their actions. I can assure you that is not true. I was in a position very much like yours once…"

[*]

Tex dropped to his haunches and touched the tire tracks. It appeared the women had skidded to a stop near an abandoned car, probably to get gas.

"Ain't as unproductive as we thought, huh?" Daryl asked. "Know how to steal, sneak, and siphon."

"I had a gorgeous wife who was also extremely competent." Tex stood straight. "I guess I shouldn't have assumed. But Tammy would have died rather than join Negan's harem. I just…I thought these women couldn't be fighters." He nodded to the tracks. "Looks like they went west."

The men climbed back into their pick-up and pressed on. Daryl drove, and Tex rode shotgun. Rick sat in the back with one of the ham radios they had picked up at the Sanctuary. It crackled, and he picked up the mic. "Come in."

Sasha's voice drifted through faintly. "Not to disparage all your hard work tracking…but in case you lose the trail, the last outpost is at Fairfax High School. At least, that's the only other outpost the other wives have ever heard of. They don't know how big it is, but it was considered secondary to Mt. Vernon, so it can't have more than sixty men at most. Probably fewer. One of the women who fled? Negan took her from her husband to give her as a gift to Simon. But we didn't kill her husband at the Sanctuary or in the Kingdom. Her husband leads that outpost."

Isaac's voice shot through the radio next, louder and clearer than Sasha's. "The women are likely there by now. Don't approach the outpost on your own. If a fight breaks out, you'll need back-up. We're sending reinforcements, and we'll scout it out together. Rendezvous at the large Anglican church just off Main Street. It's near but not too near. We can leave the cars there and move in on foot. You've got a map?"

"Roger that," Rick replied.

Daryl hit the accelerator just a little harder, and the engine purred forward.

[*]

An AR-15 rested between Carol's knees. She leaned her head back against the backseat of the sedan and closed her eyes. "I'm an idiot," she said. All the people she'd callously killed to protect her own, and she hadn't even wanted to let those women be interrogated.

"You're _compassionate_ ," Michonne told her from the front seat as she drove. "You wanted to give them some time to recover from the shock. It's no different from rape, as far as I'm concerned, what they went through. Negan _threatened_ them. It was join my harem or else… And after the ordeal they'd been through, you didn't want to sic Malik on them right away. I get it."

"Malik's not so bad," Rosita insisted from the front passenger seat.

"Well, you would say that," Michonne told her. "You _are_ sleeping with him."

Rosita rolled her eyes. "Well he clearly knows what he's doing."

"In bed?" Michonne asked in a voice that was almost a chuckle in itself.

"I don't need to know _how_ he does it," Rosita said, "as long as he gets the job done."

Michonne chortled.

"I _meant_ in the interrogation room."

"That interrogation didn't go at all as I imagined it would," Sasha said from the backseat. "I thought I'd learn some tools of intimidation. But he just… _charmed_ them."

Rosita jerked her head around. "What? How?"

"I sense a little jealousy." Michonne followed the C.A.T. van, which was being driven by Isaac, off the highway. A sign at the end of the ramp read _Farirfax...6 miles_.

"I can't explain it, exactly," Sasha told her. "But he made them feel like he sympathized with them, that he understood them, that he was on _their_ side. He became a completely different person. Like a switch was flicked and…" She shook her head.

"That would _never_ work with me," Rosita said.

"Maybe that's why he likes you," Michonne suggested. She turned left and checked the rear view mirror to make sure Jesus's car was following.


	29. Chapter 29

Walkers roamed the main buildings. The church must have been turned into an emergency shelter at the start of it all. Through the glass windows of the covered walkway that connected the new sanctuary to the educational building, they could see sleeping bags spread out. The lawn was completely clear of any lurching creatures. "They must all be trapped inside," Tex said.

A few yards from the main building, from outside the open door of the small, historic chapel, Rick called, "Chapel's empty. Let's wait in here."

Tex and Daryl made their way over, the noise of thrashing walkers growing fainter with the distance. Daryl glanced back and saw the undead face of a child pressed to the glass. The sight made his gut churn. He thought of Sophia, like he always did when he saw any walker under the age of fourteen. Slowly, he turned his head a way, strode faster toward Rick, and then ducked inside.

The stench of walkers from the main building didn't quite bury that old church smell emanating from the historic chapel – brick and wood and incense and age. Daryl was no churchgoer, but he loved the smell of old church almost as much as he loved the smell of fall leaves. He walked down the short center aisle, his eyes exploring the stained glass, the organ pipes, the prayer books that hadn't been touched for over two years. He heard a rustling coming from the sacristy.

Silently, Daryl climbed the two altar stairs, walked across the stage, and rounded the corner. The red curtain fluttered as he burst through it. The sight that greeted him was so strange that he almost didn't shoot in time. One walker wore a black shirt and priest's collar – but no pants. Another was in a long skirt but was missing her shirt. Daryl was blinking when the priest-walker bent his head toward his arm, its mouth opening in a ghastly display of hunger.

He kicked the creature hard in the stomach, and it flew back against a rack of robes, which swayed madly before the creature fell to the ground. Daryl smacked the second walker in its face with the side of his crossbow, so that it stumbled back, and then he had enough distance to shoot both.

After recovering his arrows, Daryl returned to the pews, where Tex and Rick sat. He slumped down on one of the red velvet seat pads, and a faint cloud of dust rose into the air.

"How many?" Rick asked.

"Two. Priest must've been back there screwin' some woman. They's both half neked."

"Scandal in the church," Rick muttered.

"Well, this is an Anglican church," Tex said. "Could have been his own wife. Maybe they were trying to get some privacy, away from the shelter."

"Damn weird though." Daryl reloaded his crossbow. "Priest might of had a heart attack when he was bangin' her...then turned later...but _both_ of 'em?"

"Maybe it was erotic asphyxiation," Tex suggested.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"That's how I want to go out," Rick said. "Not the strangling part! I just mean, having sex."

"Don't think Michonne'd like that. Ya better go out while gardenin' when yer eighty."

"Why not ninety?" Rick asked.

"Who the fuck wants to live to ninety?"

"My grandmother," Tex said. "And she was keen as a whip, too. Still smoking and drinking."

"I wanna go out fightin'," Daryl said. "When I's seventy. Die takin' down three mean bastards at once."

"Don't think Carol would like that," Rick said.

"She'll go out fightin' with me. Takin' down four."

Rick chuckled. "Maybe there'll be an end to the fighting one day."

"Ain't never no end to fightin'," Daryl said. "People be fightin' in Paradise."

"Who?" Tex asked. "Over what?"

"Well," Daryl answered, "I'm gonna have to deck me at least _one_ of those sanctimonious religious bastards once I step through them pearly gates."

Tex laughed.

Rick and Tex both had to go take a peek at the rotting, pant-less priest to see if Daryl was just yanking their chains.

"Bet she was the organist," Rick said when he sat back down on the pew.

"It's always the organist," Tex agreed.

"Maybe he had a heart attack and collapsed on her and pinned her there," Rick said. "He was kind of plump and she was thin."

Daryl stood and plucked up his crossbow. "Maybe his wife got jealous and poisoned his dick."

"What?" Rick asked.

"Makes 'bout as much damn sense as what ya just said."

"The Mystery of the Pantless Priest," Tex mused.

Rick smiled. "I think that was an Agatha Christie novel."

The conversation went on like this. Daryl ignored their speculations and began fiddling with his crossbow, until the sound of engines nearing and then dying sent them running out of the chapel.

Isaac, Malik, Stephen, and another knight of the Kingdom, Jared, spilled out of the lead vehicle, the C.A.T. van. The four women spilled out of a sedan, and, from a pick-up, Carl and Jesus emerged. Everyone was armed to the teeth.

[*]

Isaac, carrying himself like a platoon leader, took up the front, while Malik had fallen to the back as they walked the 2.8 miles toward the high school. Carol dropped back beside Malik and said, "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"For talking you out of interrogating them sooner."

Malik snorted. "You talked me out of nothing. I was not about to obey your command. I planned to interrogate them this morning, even before the incident."

"Oh."

"I wanted to wait a night, to give them a chance to adjust to Alexandria, to see that your people are…friendly. I was a fool to wait, clearly." He removed the safety on his rifle. "You were of course the larger fool."

"Well, thanks for acknowledging that."

"You are most welcome."

[*]

The signs of camp became increasingly clearer as they neared the high school. Most of the security appeared to surround the main building, which was encircled by cement traffic barricades and patrolled by armed guards. Outside the barricades, several outward-facing vehicles were parked.

The football stadium, however, was vacant. Carl scaled the fence and cut the barbed wire with his knife, and the rest followed him over. They climbed the bleachers to the very top, where they peered over the edge of a colorfully painted wall to survey the camp.

"Shit," Daryl said. "Ya could fit ten of my high schools in this place."

Carl scoured the scene with binoculars. Maybe the loss of one eye had heightened the ability of the other, but they all agreed he was the best watchman now. "There's our pick-up," he said. "Right between the auditorium and the main building."

Isaac surveyed the perimeter through the scope of his rifle. "They have an armored rescue vehicle."

"There's one of the women," Carl added. She was standing outside the main doors, talking to an armed man. The man leaned down and kissed her. "That's probably the husband Negan took her from, the leader of the outpost." The man raised his arm, motioned forward, and people began streaming out of the buildings and loading up the trucks with ammunition. "Shit," Carl cursed. "I think they're headed to attack Alexandria."


	30. Chapter 30

"I count twenty-eight people," Carl continued. "Seventeen of them armed. They don't seem to have any more guns than that, but they're putting a lot of ammo on those trucks. All men except the three women who left Alexandria. We should take them out right here, right now, while they're loading up."

"We're outnumbered," Rick said.

"We can do it, Dad! Only seventeen of them have rifles. There's twelve of us, and we have three expert snipers!"

"Four," Stephen said. The clean-cut, twenty-something knight smiled sheepishly. "Don't forget me."

Isaac, who had been looking through his scope, lowered his rifle and sat back against the wall behind the bleachers. "They can't be leaving to attack Alexandria," he said. "They're loading up _everything_. All of their supplies. I think they're _moving_."

"Then there is yet another outpost," Malik reasoned.

"I'll follow 'em," Daryl said. "See where they's goin'."

"Not alone, you won't," Carol told him.

"I'll go with Daryl," Isaac volunteered as he looked directly at Carol. "He's going to need to keep a low profile, keep his distance, and not be distracted."

"You think I'm a distraction?" Carol asked.

"I think the way you fight - you'd be of much more use guarding Alexandria."

With that, Carol didn't argue.

"Jackson had a device in the C.A.T. van," Malik said. "A...uh...how do you say...bug? If you can manage to plant it in one of their vehicles, or somewhere in the vicinity of the other outpost, you should be able to listen up to a mile away. However, do not attempt to do so unless you have a reasonable opening. Do not not risk discovery."

"Or death?" Isaac asked. "Because you'd miss me, wouldn't you?"

"I would prefer you not die," Malik conceded.

"You can take the C.A.T. van," Tex said.

"Nah. Take the sedan," Daryl told him. "Less obvious. Engine's quiet, too."

"And the rest of us?" Sasha asked.

"We'll return to Alexandria and get ready to defend it," Rick said. "If those men join with another outpost, they may _all_ come after us. We're the ones they know about now."

"Malik and I'll return to Green Acres and get reinforcements to send your way," Tex said.

"And I to the Kingdom," Stephen added. "We'll send more knights to defend you as you defended us."

Sasha turned to look at Jesus. He sighed. "I'll see who I can recruit. But Gregory's not going to like it."

"Maybe it's time you took over from Gregory," she said.

Jesus shook his head.

"You just don't want the responsibility of leadership," Sasha told him.

Tex raised a hand slightly. "Since I _do_ have the responsibility of leadership, might I make a suggestion?"

"What's that?" Sasha asked.

"You've got a pregnant woman in Alexandria who shouldn't be there if the Saviors come to attack. And probably some other vulnerable people, too. Those women have only heard of Alexandria. They think we're _all_ from Alexandria, and that Alexandria destroyed the Sanctuary and Mt. Vernon. That's all you told them, right? That _you'd_ destroyed the Saviors?"

"Yes," Michonne said. "That's right. We didn't give them any details or tell them about the other communities."

"So they won't be looking for the other communities," Tex reasoned. "You should evacuate your most vulnerable people to Green Acres. Also, any non-military supplies you don't want destroyed or looted in the event that the defense doesn't go as well as we hope."

"But aren't you four or five to a room there?" Rick asked. "Maggie said you were."

"Some of our rooms will be vacant because many of our fighters will be at Alexandria, ready to greet the Saviors. I'll send you fifteen of our best men. I have to stay at the ranch myself. I've been away from my people too long, and there are ranch matters to attend. But I'll give you Santiago in my place. I usually keep him at home to guard the ranch, but he's an even better sniper than Malik."

Malik cleared his throat.

"As good, anyway," Tex clarified.

"It's a good idea," Michonne told Rick. "To evacuate all but our warriors and weapons."

"We can trust you to give all of our supplies back?" Rick asked.

"Only you know how far you trust me," Tex said. "But I don't think we've proven ourselves to be anything but friends."

Rick nodded. "Let's get moving."

The group crept down from the bleachers and jogged back to the vehicles at the church, staying low behind cars outside the stadium and disappearing into a spot of woods to avoid detection until they were father away, when they began to sprint down Main Street.

Once they were back at the church, Isaac took the bug and some more ammo from the C.A.T. van. "Get that can of gas, too," Daryl said. "We ain't got no idea how far we got to drive. Cain't stop and waste time siphoning."

Isaac nodded, grabbed the gas, and put it in the trunk of the sedan. He and Daryl drove the car to within a couple blocks of the school and parked outside among some abandoned cars. Isaac peered through the binoculars and said, "They're still loading."

When the caravan began to pull out of the school, the men ducked down in their seats. Daryl's eyes crept up over the dash to see what direction the Saviors were going. He waited until the last vehicle in the caravan had turned out of sight onto another road to nod to Isaac, who started the engine.

[*]

Maggie wanted to stay to fight. She hated that she was being forced to sit out the defense of her own people yet again. But she also felt she had an obligation to Glenn to defend his child, to bring this one surviving part of him into the light of life and love. The child would be embraced by a gaggle of aunts and uncles, touched by the lives that had been touched by Glenn.

Twelve people were evacuated from Alexandria, among them the old, the ill, and women with very few fighting skills. Any able-bodied man, fighter or not, was expected to stay to defend the community, and none dared publicly admit to cowardice. They left a pantry full of food to feed the defenders, but most of the long-term supplies were hauled in trucks to Green Acres.

While Malik stayed behind in Alexandria, Tex drove the C.A.T. van with Maggie in the front and five other evacuees in the back. Maggie had considered going to the Hilltop with Jesus instead, as her doctor was there, but Green Acres was farther from Alexandria and much better defended. It would be safer. There was little risk this new crop of Saviors would find their way there, even if they learned of the other communities. They would attack the Hilltop first, then the Kingdom. They would never make it to Green Acres. Her protective mothering instinct kicked in, and she chose the ranch.

"We really do have a good doctor," Tex assured her as he drove. "I know she couldn't save my wife." He swallowed and glanced out the driver's side window. "It was beyond anyone's ability. The internal bleeding happened so fast, and was so severe, and without a modern hospital…" He sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "But Doctor O'Connor was a general practitioner in the old world for fifteen years. She does it all. She's had plenty of pregnant patients."

"Thank you for taking us all in temporarily."

"Let's pray it _is_ only temporary."

Maggie smiled sadly. "I thought you didn't believe in God."

"I don't. But I still hope he'll answer my prayers."

[*]

Isaac and Daryl, keeping their distance, trailed the caravan a long way. The sedan swished past a green sign that read "Welcome to Pennsylvania" and then immediately dipped into a pothole. The car thudded and shuddered and Isaac slowed down.

"Road's too straight ahead," Daryl said. "Better pull over a bit so as they don't see us."

"We need to refill the tank anyway."

Isaac eased the sedan onto the shoulder, and they spilled out. Daryl popped the trunk and pulled out the red gas can. "How far is this damn outpost?" he grumbled.

"It doesn't make sense," Isaac agreed as he opened the cap to the gas tank and stepped aside for Daryl to begin fueling. "Why would it be so far from the others? Unless they're oppressing multiple regions...in which case, how large an organization are they?"

"If they's that big, there's got to be another Negan."

"It's hard to imagine Negan allowing another Negan," Isaac reasoned.

"Guess we'll find out." Daryl put the empty gas can back in the trunk and got into the passenger's seat.

In another twenty minutes, they rounded a bend in the road. Daryl expected the Saviors' caravan to be nearly out of sight. Instead, it was parked on the side of the road not all that far ahead. Isaac jerked the steering wheel to the left. The sedan flew across the double yellow line and rolled down into a ditch. He immediately switched off the engine.

They crept out of the car and lay stomach down on the slight hill. Daryl used the binoculars, Isaac his scope. "Don't think they saw us," Daryl said. "Too busy pissing." There was a line of men at the side of the road, peeing into the woods. The women had gone farther in for privacy.

"The cab of that last truck is completely empty," Isaac said.

The Saviors started to zip up, but then they circled together by the side of the road to confer. "And they's talking," Daryl said. "Now's our chance to plant that bug."

"I'll go."

"Nah. I'll go. I's faster. You's too damn big. And ya need to cover me, case'n it don't work out."

Isaac fished the bug out of his pocket and handed it to Daryl. Then he put his eye to his scope and his finger just above the trigger of his rifle. Ducking to keep his head beneath the hill, Daryl began to run.


	31. Chapter 31

"There's an empty space back there." Tex waved his hand over one of the bookcases in his study. "I'm thinking of installing a day bed that will pull down. Until then, the couch is the best I have to offer you. It's a very comfortable couch. I think. Tammy and I shared the floor. Not really room for two on the couch."

Maggie would sleep on the floor herself. Her back couldn't even handle a mattress these days, but she didn't tell him that. It would seem like a slap in the face of his generosity. "Thank you for letting me have your room. Where will you sleep?"

"In Hugo's bed. I'd give you his bed, but I don't think you want to sleep in a room with three other teenage boys."

She laughed and shook her head. At the party at Rick's, she'd heard war tales of the young deaf-mute, and she knew he'd been shot. "How long do you think he'll be recovering in the Kingdom?"

"I may not get Hugo back at all. That bullet may have missed his heart, but I think something else struck it that day."

"Really?" Maggie asked.

"Found himself a cute little girlfriend in the Kingdom. They're going to run out of paper, writing notes."

"Puppy love," she said. "It's a beautiful thing." And then she swallowed because she thought of how her relationship with Glenn had morphed over time. First, he'd been a mere sexual release for her; then, she'd developed an affection for him not unlike puppy love; finally, that feeling had deepened and matured into something far stronger, something intense and real and lasting. It _would_ have been lasting, if only he had lived.

Tex was probably thinking something similar, because he was looking off into the corner of the library, at a box crammed with Tammy's former things. "Not as beautiful as a love that's endured through years of shared sorrows and joys, hopes and losses, hurts and forgiveness." He tipped his hat down. "There's a bathroom in that hall out there. Dinner's at seven. Make yourself at home." He shuffled quickly out.

[*]

The driver of the rear truck had mercifully left it open, which meant Daryl needed only to sprint, slap the bug under the seat, and then sprint back to duck into the ditch again. He was throwing himself stomach down just as a pair of legs rounded the back of the truck. He bit down hard on his tongue to keep from groaning when his gut hit a large, jagged rock. Daryl rolled over on his back, closed his eyes tight, and waited for the sound of the trucks starting and pulling off. Then he counted to five hundred before he made his way back to the sedan.

"Good work," Isaac told him.

After they pushed the car out of the ditch, Daryl drove so that Isaac could fiddle with the receiver and attempt to hear what was happening in that truck. "We got damn lucky," Isaac said. "You didn't see, because you were running, but the outpost leader and his wife are in that last truck."

"Let's just hope they say somethin' useful." Daryl glanced down at the portable, battery-powered contraption in Issac's lap as he eased down the road in the general direction of the caravan but a mile and a bend behind. "Secret Service's got some cool toys."

"Jackson was a fine addition to Green Acres." Isaac shook his head. "I'm going to miss that cocky bastard something awful."

[*]

By the time Maggie sat down to dinner at the dining room table, fifteen fighters from Green Acres, under the direction of Santiago, were well on their way to Alexandria. Joining her and Tex tonight at the main table was Dawson, Tex's ranch manger, Dawson's wife Rose, and Doctor O'Connor, who told Maggie she had a bottle of prenatal vitamins she would happily give her after dinner.

Rose said, "I hope you'll bring the baby to visit Green Acres after it's born. I could seriously use a baby fix." She glanced at her husband, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair and muttered, "It's not practical, Rose."

"I know it's not," Rose whispered back. She looked up at Maggie. "I'd be happy to watch the little tyke anytime you visit to help with the animals. Tex says you're a veterinarian."

"I'm not, actually," Maggie said. "I just grew up on a farm."

"Well," Dawson said, "That makes you an expert in Tex's world. All I did was manage a feed store, and now I'm the manager of this place."

"You're a good manager," Tex said. "Better than me."

"You like to be on your horse," Dawson said. "In the forest and in the dirt. Herding and hunting and farming. You don't like handling the day-to-day details the way I do. But you _have_ to be a manager." He waved his wine glass toward the window. "You lead these people, and that's all leadership is. Managing."

"I don't think so," Maggie said. "Good leaders inspire. They don't… _manage_."

Tex smiled, a little sadly. "Sometimes I think we're all just managing. Managing to put one foot in front of the other."

[*]

After several miles of silence, Daryl asked. "Is that thing even workin'?"

"I can hear the truck moving. I just think they're not talking to each other."

"Ain't never known a woman to be that quiet that long."

Isaac laughed. "You've got a point." He fiddled with the device. Eventually, the sound of voices crackled through, fading in and out for a moment until the transmission seemed to steady. Isaac turned up the volume.

"I still don't understand why you felt you had to shoot him," the man said. "Couldn't you just have tied him up while you were playing your little sex game? And then just left him there? Now they'll come after us for sure!"

Then the woman's voice drifted through: "Well, we were going to have to shoot the guard on the wall to get out of there anyway, so what difference does one more make?"

"You couldn't have lured the guard down with your sultry bullshit, too?"

"Not every man responds to that. And it would have been too suspicious to try that near the wall. What's with your tone of voice, anyway?"

"What tone of voice?" he spat.

"You act like I've been _cheating_ on you! I used what I had to use to get what I needed – which was to get free and get back to you! And now you want to be pissed off at me?"

There was a long silence.

"I didn't think we'd be listening to a lover's spat," Isaac said.

Daryl slowed down and dropped back because the trucks were coming into view ahead and he didn't want to be caught sight of in the rear view mirror. The last truck disappeared over a hill, and Daryl eased forward again, saying, "Sounds like he's afraid of us. Afraid we might be gunnin' for 'em."

"Doesn't sound like someone who wants to _attack_ us," Isaac agreed.

"Maybe they ain't joining up with another outpost to come at us. Maybe they's _fleein'_ us."

"Shhh!"

The receptor was crackling again. It appeared they'd lost some of the conversation by dropping back out of range, because the woman was in the middle of a sentence – "…sorry too. We're all just trying to survive. But I'm out now. Negan's gone. So's Simon. God knows how they killed them all. There weren't _that_ many people in that place. I overheard something about them poisoning the pigs to start."

"Huh. Good thing Negan didn't share any of that meat with the outposts."

"Well," she said, "you can always count on him to keep the best for the Sanctuary."

"Did you even _try_ to get the other women to come with you?"

"Of course we tried," she answered. "They trusted those people. They wanted to stay. And there's no one for them here. Their husbands were all killed. They wiped out the _entire_ Sanctuary and all of the men in Mount Vernon."

"They wanted to stay with the people who murdered their husbands?" the man asked.

"I don't think they took it personally. They were upset, of course, but…you know. They adapted to Negan's rule quickly enough. They see Alexandria as more...benign. Change your master, change your tune." She sighed.

"Did they hurt you? In Alexandria?"

"No."

"Did Negan hurt you?"

She was silent.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He _fucked_ me, when he happened to be at Mount Vernon. So did Simon, sometimes, when Negan wasn't there."

There was a long enough silence that Daryl figured they'd lost reception, so he eased down on the accelerator until they were almost within sight of the truck again.

"...No," came the woman's voice. "Because I pretended to like it, so I didn't have to watch you get your face burned off. So you could be the leader of an outpost instead of doing yard duty and dancing with the chompers."

"I didn't _ask_ you to do that."

"You didn't _fight_ for me either," she spat.

"I would have died. _You_ would have died. Or been put in the yard and then eventually submitted to him anyway."

"These Alexandrians…. _they_ fought. They fought and they won! And there couldn't have been more than fifty of them in that little Mayberry neighborhood."

"Maybe they had help," the man said. "Allies. In which case, all the more reason not to tick them off by shooting two of their own!"

"It's over! I can't go back and undo it. Do you really think they'll track us down all the way to…where the hell are we going, anyway?"

At this, Isaac leaned forward a little closer to the receiver, waiting anxiously for the location.

"Someplace far away from the people who managed to kill all of the Saviors but us," the man said. " _That's_ where. We'll find a new place to make camp. We'll start over. You and me and the others. We'll be free. And from now on...we'll only kill people who try to kill us."

"And you think that will atone for all the blood on our hands?" she asked, her voice no longer angry, but shaky with shame and maybe hope.

"We'll start over," he repeated. "Those people, those Saviors we were? They're _dead_ now. We aren't anyone's Saviors. But maybe this is our chance. Maybe we're the saved."

Daryl made a U-turn in the middle of the road, gunned the accelerator, and began driving back. "They ain't comin' for us." The voices on the receiver died as the car picked up speed.

The highway stretched before them, wide and open and clear. The car began to rattle, Daryl was pushing it so fast. He looked down at the gauges and saw the orange needle had fallen almost to E again. "Shit," he muttered.


	32. Chapter 32

Carol made her way to the communal pantry for some more spices. She was mixing up a huge vat of stew to feed the arriving troops. Ten knights of the Kingdom had already rolled through the gates of Alexandria. Jesus had returned from the Hilltop with only three fighters, but Carol trusted Tex would keep his word to send fifteen men. She prayed Daryl and Isaac would return soon with news of how many Saviors they would have to face and when their enemy might attack.

She passed Eric's house now, where the refugee women were under guard until the current threat could be addressed. One of the construction workers stood armed at the back door, and Carl stood on the front porch, rifle in hand. Enid was keeping him company, but the couple stepped apart as Carol neared. She couldn't help but smile at the young lovers. Carol knew she would never again experience that innocent thrill of a first infatuation, but she didn't miss it either. Daryl didn't make her heart flutter the way her very first high school boyfriend had, but he made it do something far more powerful: he calmed it, strengthened it, helped it to beat its own, steady rhythm. She wouldn't trade a thousand, passionate young loves for this steady, slow-burning furnace, which smelted down rough edges and purified the metal deep within.

"Shouldn't you be guarding those women?" Carol called to the teenager.

"I am." Carl nodded to Enid. "She's just here to make sure I don't get seduced by them."

Carol smiled and walked on.

[*]

Daryl growled in frustration and yanked on a wire beneath the popped steering wheel until the blue thread tore straight out.

"I don't see how that's going to help," Isaac said.

Daryl slid out of the abandoned car they'd finally found after hiking six miles. "Cain't do it. Cain't wire these new ones. Old ones is hard enough."

Isaac rattled the empty red, plastic gas can he was holding. "Then we siphon off the gas and hike all the way back to ours."

When the can was full to the brim, they made their way back along the shoulder of the highway, Isaac swinging the five gallons as if it weighed no more than a loaf of bread. Daryl zipped up his leather jacket. He didn't want to imagine the coming winter. The poncho that had served him well during that January in the prison probably wouldn't be quite enough this time around. But at least they would have heat and houses and no more Saviors to contend with. "Should of brought the ham radio," he said, "so's we could tell 'em back home that it's over."

"Should of, could of, would of," Isaac muttered. "We were in a pretty big hurry. There's lots of things we didn't think of. Like packing dinner."

As if on cue, Daryl's stomach growled. "Don't suppose ya ever eat squirrel at Green Acres?"

Isaac shook his head.

Daryl swung his crossbow off his shoulder and headed toward the woods.

[*]

When Sasha, who was standing watch on the wall, caught sight of the sleek, black C.A.T. van, she whistled to Eugene below. He rolled open the gate, and the fighters from Green Acres rolled inside in three separate vehicles.

Rosita and Malik sauntered up to the van as Santiago stepped out and slammed the door shut. Rosita looked the tall, light-brown-skinned man up and down. "And who's this?" she asked with a slight smile.

Santiago introduced himself in Spanish, grinned, and shook her hand. He began to speak to her further in Spanish, and Rosita let out a low chuckle.

Malik narrowed his eyes at his fellow sniper. "Do not forget. I speak six languages." After striding away, Malik glanced back over his shoulder, but Rosita didn't follow him. She was still talking to Santiago. Eventually, Malik turned around, strutted back, glared at the couple as he passed, and then mounted the ladder to the wall, where he took up a spot beside Sasha and slung his rifle off of his shoulder. He leveled the firearm swiftly, scanned the horizon through his scope, and then shouldered it again just as swiftly.

"Rosita's just trying to make you jealous, you know," Sasha said.

"Yes. I know."

"And it looks like she's succeeding."

"I assure you she is not."

Sasha chuckled.

[*]

Isaac yanked the squirrel flesh off the bone with his teeth and chewed hard and slowly. He swallowed as if he was forcing it down. The flames of the fire swayed, and the smoke danced its way up through the canopy of the trees. "Gamey."

"Yeah, well, it's squirrel," Daryl said with his mouth full. "Gettin' dark. Guess we should camp here tonight."

"No," Isaac replied. "We should hike on. It's only about three more miles to the car."

"Long drive back."

"We can take turns driving and sleeping. We should get back as soon as we can. Carol's going to be worried about you."

Daryl chewed a little slower and swallowed. He hadn't thought about that. He wasn't used to someone waiting for him, worrying about him. He'd never had someone to come _home to_ before. But he'd feel the same way, if she was out on this mission, and he was back in Alexandria. All his muscles would be in a tense not, and they'd unravel the second she walked safely through those gates. "Yeah. Reckon we should press on."

Twigs snapped as the fire snapped. Almost simultaneously, Isaac and Daryl leaped to their feet. Their weapons were in hand before the squirrel bones even hit the ground. The trees continued to rustle as they stood back to back and moved in a slow circle around the fire.


	33. Chapter 33

Four walkers lurched through an opening between the trees. While Daryl shot one with his crossbow, Isaac reshouldered his rifle and yanked out his knife, which he drove into the head of the nearest staggering creature. By the time they dispensed with the other two, two more had arrived.

Isaac anxiously stomped out the fire with the heel of his combat boot to prevent drawing more walkers, while Daryl killed the new arrivals and recovered his arrows. They stood silent and still, waiting for any further sign. The trees began to rustle further back in the woods, and a chorus of groaning rolled like a wave through the branches.

"Vote we run," Daryl said.

"I'll second that motion."

Isaac snatched up the gas can, and they took off through the trees, in the fading light of the setting sun, back to the highway. They ran hard for a quarter of a mile and then jogged another three fourths, before stopping to catch their breath. Issaac set the gas can down on the road, put a hand on both his hips, and walked in a slow circle, breathing in and out.

"Good thing they ain't fast," Daryl said between pants.

"I hope there's not some future mutation where they suddenly gain speed."

"Don't even say that, man!" Daryl began walking down the road, a hand on his side, which was aching from the post-meal sprint. "Don't even fuckin' say it."

"Hey!" Isaac called after him. "Your turn to carry the gas."

[*]

Tex handed Maggie a cup of hot chocolate and eased down next to her in a rocking chair on the back porch of the ranch house. She looked down into the brown ripples and smiled. "Chocolate, huh? Does that mean you want something from me?"

"Only your company."

Maggie gazed out over the porch railing at the cattle roaming in the fields. Their occasional, soft moos were like a childhood lullaby. "Do you ever slaughter them for meat?"

"The steers, yes, but the rest we keep alive for milk, and I have two bulls for breeding. We eat more venison than beef." He pointed behind himself toward the front of the ranch. "We've got three blinds for hunting, and these woods are hopping with deer." He bit down suddenly on his bottom lip. Maggie noticed because he drew a small drop of blood. Between his teeth, he muttered, "Two blinds now. The third collapsed when that tree broke apart." He closed his eyes. "Tammy was our best hunter."

"Every hour I think of some new way I miss Glenn." A silence fell between them, filled only by the sound of sipping, breathing, and rocking. She ventured a lighter subject. "You can let the cows free range without concern?"

"Our solid fences keep the walkers out."

"And when winter comes?" she asked.

"When it gets below forty, we'll bring in as many cows as we can to the barns. Put blankets on the rest. Trade them in and out."

She nodded.

"You miss farming?" he asked.

"I do now," Maggie told him. "But I used to feel trapped on the farm. I hated it and dreamed of escaping to Atlanta or Savannah. Or New York."

"New York's nasty. They pile their trash on the street."

She chuckled. "The whole _world's_ nasty now."

"Not here," he said. He pushed off the porch and his chair rocked. The steam rose from his cup, curled, and disappeared.

"It's very pretty," she agreed. "Your ranch. Very peaceful. You can't even hear the walkers in the distance."

"Aren't many left near us. We kill one every now and then when we go hunting."

Maggie took a small sip of the warm liquid. Her cup was almost empty, and she wanted to savor the last drops. "In Alexandria, we can sometimes hear the crowds of walkers in D.C., like a hornet's nest."

"Well, when things settle down, I might consider sponsoring your green card, if you want to be my veterinarian."

Maggie laughed. "I think I'll stay with my people, but I wouldn't mind dropping in from time to time to help with the animals when you need a second opinion. As long as I get to come home with gallons and gallons of fresh milk."

[*]

Daryl stirred awake. "Outta gas?" he asked.

"Yes," Isaac answered. "But we're also here."

Daryl peered through the windshield. The car had puttered to a stop forty feet from the gates of Alexandria. The wall was lined by fifteen armed guards, some from Alexandria, some from the Kingdom, some from Green Acres. Every one of those guns was pointed at the sedan. "Well, at least they's ready."

Carol shouted something from the wall, and then all the guns were lowered.

Isaac threw open his door and climbed out. He walked forward and looked up at Sasha. "Hey there, pretty lady. Want to consider opening this gate for us?"

"You're in a good mood," she called back. "Does that mean good news?"

"It means peace!" Isaac shouted joyfully. A growl sounded from behind him but stopped suddenly with the crack of a rifle.

Sasha lowered her smoking weapon. "Quiet down," she warned.

[*]

An impromptu council meeting was held in Rick's kitchen shortly after Daryl and Isaac shared their news.

"So there are no more outposts at all?" Rick asked.

"None," Isaac said. "They said we killed _all_ of the Saviors except them. And they want nothing to do with us. They're beyond Pennsylvania by now."

"What about the three remaining women?" Michonne asked. "Can we ever stop guarding them? Can we trust them? Or are they going to feel the need to knife someone one night?"

"We should disperse them," Malik reasoned. "One per community, so they are forced to assimilate." He looked directly at Rosita. "We will happily take the blonde."

" _Excuse me_?" Rosita bobbed her head at him.

"She is friendly and without guile."

Rosita huffed through her nose and looked away.

"Think he's right," Daryl said.

"About the blonde?" Rosita asked.

"No! Don't know shit 'bout no blonde. But I agree we should break 'em up. They'll settle in quicker. Belong sooner."

They worked out those details, and then Sasha said, "The ham radio worked from Fairfax to Alexandria. We have four. We should set up a permanent communication system to arrange trade and warn each other of threats."

"Do you want to be in charge of that?" Rick asked.

Sasha nodded. "I already sent one radio back with Tex. We can try contacting him after this meeting to see if it works."

"You may not have needed the knights of the Kingdom this time," Stephen said, "but King Ezekiel is fully ready to enter into an ongoing alliance from this point forward. A threat against one is a threat against all."

"Alexandria agrees," Rick announced. "A threat against one is a threat against all."

"Green Acres agrees." Isaac echoed the phrase, "A threat against one is a threat against all."

They all turned to Jesus.

"Gregory wants a written contract," he replied sheepishly. "Before the Hilltop agrees."

"Who the fuck he thinks gonna enforce it?" Daryl asked.

"It would just...it would make him _feel_ better," Jesus explained. "It might help us hammer out our common vision, too, to put everything in words. It's not such a terrible idea, is it?"

Michonne shrugged. "Fine, I'll write something up. We can send it around to all the communities for ratification. I was a contract lawyer."

"You _were_?" Rick asked. "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

Michonne's amused chuckle filled the kitchen. "It wasn't a skill I imagined I'd ever use again."

[*]

The faint rapping grew louder. Maggie dragged herself into a standing position and switched on the lamp next to the couch. She got her handgun before easing open the study door. Tex looked down at the pistol at her side. "Sorry," she apologized. "Habit."

"It's a good habit to have. Sorry to wake you. But I have good news."

She waved him inside, and his eyes immediately fell to the sleeping bag and blanket on the floor. "If the couch was uncomfortable, I can get you a bed. I can - "

"- It's fine. I prefer the floor. Honestly."

"The ham radio works."

Maggie rubbed her eyes. "That's what you woke me up to tell me?"

"No. I woke you up to tell you that there is no other outpost. Those Saviors were fleeing us. They aren't coming back for us. The long nightmare...it's finally over."

Happy and relieved, Maggie threw her arms around him. She would have thrown them around anyone who happened to be standing nearby. He froze for a moment, but then he hugged her back quickly before pulling away. "Some of us are opening some champagne we were saving for...well, for my next anniversary with Tammy. But she would want me to drink to this victory." He motioned toward the hall with his head. "Do you want to join us?"

Maggie put a hand on her stomach and looked down.

"We've also got sparkling water."

She smiled. "In that case, I'd love to."

[*]

They'd locked the bedroom door. After all, Jesus was spending the night in Alexandria, and you never knew when that guy might suddenly show up.

Tonight, for the first time, Daryl had been the one to initiate sex. His lips were hungry and hot on Carol's neck, her cheek, her ear. She could feel the rough ridge of the scar on his bare thigh against her outer leg. The flames of the bedside candles flickered and bathed their marked skin with soft, forgiving light.

"Open yer legs for me, girl." His deep voice sent a shiver through her spine. Tingling with expectation, she obeyed. Carol buried her mouth against his shoulder blade to stifle her moan when he plunged inside.

"Mhmmmmm," he murmured in her ear, holding still for a moment. "Goddamn, girl...ya feel so good." He laced his fingers through hers and pinned her hands against the bed above her head. He eased back a little so he could watch her breasts move while he moved within her. Carol matched his thrusts with the eager circles of her hips.

Later, with her cheek on his slick chest, she breathed in his masculine scent – dry leaves, smoke, and sweat. "Can it really be over?" she asked.

"Ya came twice, didn't ya?"

She laughed. "I meant the threat of the Saviors!"

"Oh. Yeah. Reckon so."

She yawned. "Time to rest now, finally."

His callused fingertips tickled her back in feathery strokes. "Nah," he said. "Time to build."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

* * *

 _So this is probably the second time I should have ended this story. But I'm going to keep writing...There's going to be a few more chapters, but the major conflict is over. I think I just want to dwell in the peace for a bit longer (and wrap up some loose ends). I hope you'll stick with me._


	34. Chapter 34

A pair of grey-brown, white-tailed deer nibbled on a small pile of feed. The ears of the largest one shot up, and it raised its head just as an arrow pierced its side. The wounded animal began to run, but a second arrow brought it down. The other deer got no farther before a gunshot stilled its flight.

Two pairs of feet crunched over the light dusting of snow on the forest floor. Crisp, icy leaves rustled beneath the white flakes. Daryl looked down at the deer. One was still moving. He ended its struggle. "Ain't no sport in this."

"You've never hunted from a blind before?" Tex asked.

"Ain't huntin'. It's just waitin'. Don't feel right."

"I agree tracking and chasing is more challenging, but when you have this many mouths to feed..." Tex shrugged. "Sometimes you have to choose efficiency."

"Hmmm." Daryl slid his arrows out of the deer. He couldn't argue with that, but he didn't have to like it.

Tex gestured to the deer Daryl had brought down. "What do you want for your labor?"

"Technically yer deer anyhow. On yer land. All I done is killed it."

"You're a terrible negotiator, you know. I can't believe your people sent you to trade." Daryl, Sasha, and Carl had arrived mid-morning with a tanker truck full of gasoline Daryl and Rick had found while scavenging near a quarry in Mananas. They'd found _two_ tankers, actually, but they were keeping the larger one for Alexandria. Tex had insisted on putting the negotiations off until after a little hunting, and Daryl hoped Sasha would handle the details. "Alexandria _should_ have sent Maggie."

"Maggie ain't travelin' nowheres. She's 'bout to burst any day now." Daryl propped both deer on their backs using two rocks and a log, and then he drew out his hunting knife.

Tex unsheathed his knife as well. "The Hilltop's doctor moved to Alexandria temporarily, didn't he?."

"Yeah." Daryl began field dressing one of the deer, starting with a short cut from the hind legs down to the pelvic bone. "He's stayin' 'till a month after the baby's born. Don't know why Gregory agreed to it."

Tex slit the other deer's skin and peeled it back. "I may have given Gregory half a case of my finest wine."

Daryl glanced at him. "Gave up his _doctor_ for _wine_?"

"No one ever accused the man of forward thinking."

Daryl shook his head. "So do _we_ owe ya for the wine then, since Maggie got the doc?"

"No. Don't mention it to her."

Daryl scratched his nose with the side of his arm as blood dripped from the hand that held his knife. "Why?"

"I don't want her to feel obligated to me. Did he bring the ultrasound to Alexandria?"

"Mean that baby picture machine thingamagig?"

"Yes."

Daryl yanked out the organs and tossed them to the side. "Yeah."

"So what is it?"

"What's what?"

"Boy or a girl?" Tex asked.

"Maggie don't wanna know 'til it's born."

"Huh. I'd want to know. There's enough surprises in this world as is." Tex dug into his deer, his hands wetting with blood. "You and Carol ever think about having a kid? Or is she too old?"

"She ain't old!" Although lately, Carol had been throwing off the covers in the middle of the night, complaining it was too hot, even though it was winter and Rick kept the heat set at 50 to conserve energy.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It's just…the odds go down a lot after 40. Tammy's weren't high even in her 30s. We tried for years and years after Cash was born and…nothing."

Daryl snapped the rag out of his back pocket, and began wiping his hands. The truth was, Carol might have wanted a child. Even after the terrible loss of Sophia, even in this uncertain world, she might have wanted one. She'd come home from Maggie's baby shower wiping away tears. But they couldn't even _try_. "Cain't have one anyhow. Asshole dead husband of hers insisted she tie her tubes after their daughter's born. Didn't want no more kids interferin' with his life."

"Carol had a daughter?"

"Yeah. Sophia." Daryl swallowed. "Got lost. Tracked that little girl harder than I ever tracked anythin' in my whole damn life. But she was in a barn on Maggie's farm the whole goddamn time, with a bunch of other walkers." He crouched and slung the deer over his shoulders before rising.

Tex carried his deer the same way. As they walked back toward the ranch, Tex asked, "What were walkers doing in Maggie's barn?"

Daryl told him the entire story as they brought the deer through the gates of Green Acres. He'd rarely mentioned Sophia since it happened, and he was surprised at how easily the words rolled off his tongue. It was as if a stone he hadn't even known he was carrying began to crumble, and a few of the heaviest bits fell to the ground.

They made their way past a great oak tree with a swing. A little girl of about nine cried, "Hey, Mr. Tex!" as she lay on her stomach on the wood plank, ran forward against the snow-dusted earth, and then let go, stretching out her arms and legs as if she was flying.

"Hey, Caroline!" Tex called back.

A couple of men emerged from the smokehouse as they neared it and took the deer off their hands. "You remember my butcher, Tommy," Tex said. "And his boy Joe."

"Yeah," Daryl lied. "Sure." He would never learn the names of all these people, no matter how often he visited. Tommy and Joe disappeared with the kill into the smokehouse, and Tex and Daryl moved onto the ranch house.

On the porch, a bonfire burned in a metal trash can. Carl Grimes was sitting in a wooden chair before an overturned barrel that served as a table. Daryl had brought Carl along at Rick's request. Enid had dumped the poor kid for some handsome, clean-cut, young knight-in-training she'd met at the big Christmas party in the Kingdom. For the past two weeks, Carl had been moody and restless. Now, though, he seemed almost happy as he dealt out two sets of cards. The pretty young prisoner they'd rescued from the Sanctuary, Hope, sat across from him. She took off her gloves, picked up her cards, and rearranged them.

Tex glanced over Hope's shoulder at her cards. "You better fold, son," he told Carl. "This young lady's _already_ got you whipped."

When Carl blushed, Daryl understood why Rick had insisted he bring the boy. There were exactly zero teenage girls in Alexandria now that Enid had left for the Kingdom, but there were _three_ at Green Acres.

"Where's Sasha?" Daryl asked.

"She went off with Isaac toward the dorm," Carl said. The dorm was a ten-room structure not far from the east barn. Alexandria had received much food in exchange for the labor of their construction workers. The dorm was sorely needed by the time it was finished: Green Acres had found and taken in six more refugees since the war against the Saviors.

"You two better get washed up," Hope said.

"That's what we're fixin' to do," Tex replied.

When the screen door had shut behind them, Daryl asked, "How old's Hope again?"

"Eighteen," Tex answered. "How old's Carl?"

"Fifteen."

"I remember being...uh... _tutored,_ if you will, by an eighteen year old," Tex mused as they made their way to the large, double kitchen sinks. He turned the faucet on with his elbow. "I was sixteen. And hungry."

"I's fourteen," Daryl replied. The smell of fresh cut garlic and basil wafted through the air around them as they scrubbed up. "But...uh...Don't mention that to Carol next time yer in Alexandria."

Tex laughed. "Don't worry. We'll keep all our talk in the locker room." When he was done scrubbing, he grabbed a kitchen towel and dried his hands and upper arms. "That Savior woman we took in?"

"Yeah?" Daryl switched off the water and took the towel Tex handed him. "She still wakin' up screamin'?"

"She killed herself last week. Hung herself from the rafters in the west barn."

"Jesus."

"Hugo found her. Like that boy hasn't been through enough." He shook his head. "So we're up to three graves at Green Acres now." Tex tossed the towel on the counter. "I need a drink."

Tex led Daryl back through the kitchen and into the dinning room, where he opened the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He poured two fingers in each, and Daryl thanked him for the offered glass. They rarely had alcohol in Alexandria. Whenever they got hold of a bottle, they traded it to the Hilltop. They didn't have the means to farm as well as the Hilltop or Green Acres or even the Kingdom. Alexandria had a decent enough green house, a small vegetable garden, and the chicken coop, but they didn't have large animals or fruit trees or major crops. Their expertise lay in finding things other people wanted.

"I heard your Savior's settled in well, though?" Tex asked. "Dianne?"

"Mhmhm. Used to be a biologist or somethin'. Her and Eugene's workin' together. They's growin' molds and fungus and medicinal herbs and all sorts of weird shit."

"Making your own antibiotics?" Tex sipped and hissed. "Good thinking. There's only so long we can keep pushing these scavenged medicines past their expiration dates. We should try something like that here."

"Well, tell ya what. Give me another ounce of that whiskey and I'll _think_ bout rentin' Eugene out to ya."

"You're getting a _little_ better at this." Tex smiled and poured. He raised his glass. "To a better future."

Their glasses clinked. The brown liquid sloshed inside, and they both drank.


	35. Chapter 35

Sasha loved the sound of Isaac's laugh, the low, deep rumble that arose when she tickled his ribs with the tips of her fingers.

"Cut it out, woman, or I'll have to discipline you."

"Try it." She continued her tickling. He seized her hand and rolled her on her stomach in the narrow bottom bunk before slapping her bare ass playfully. The second slap turned into a gentle caress, and then his lips were on the back of her neck and soon enough his hand was snaking between her legs.

After that second round of sex, Isaac rolled on his side facing Sasha and jammed himself against the wall so she could have the better part of the mattress. Sasha settled her head on the pillow and smiled. "It's nice you finally have your own room. Like a big boy."

"Thank the speedy work of Alexandria's construction workers." He reached up and pounded the empty bunk bed above. "And Santiago for leaving Green Acres and following that chick to the Kingdom."

"I bet Malik's happy about that, though," Sasha said. "No more competition for Rosita."

"Malik thrives on competition."

"What do you do these days, with so few threats? Are you _farming_?"

He chuckled. "Me? No. I'm still in command of the watch. And Malik and I scavenge now, like you."

"Scavenge up anything good recently?"

Isaac leaned over her and pulled out a drawer in his nightstand. He handed her a heart shaped locket. The gold chain was cool against her fingers. "Pretty, but you know I think jewelry is impractical. Gets in the way. Gets caught on things. Gives walkers something to grab."

"I can't win for trying."

She kissed his strong, bare shoulder. "I appreciate the thought."

"Even _Rosita_ liked the jewelry Malik gave her."

"You mean the brass knuckles?"

He shrugged.

Sasha rolled on her back and dangled the necklace above her eyes. The tiny red jewels lodged in the gold heart twinkled in the sunlight filtering in through the lace curtains. "I'll hang it in my bedroom as a decoration. It's pretty. Get me six more and I'll make a mobile."

"Not getting you anything ever again, you ingrate."

Sasha chuckled. She turned and kissed his cheek. "When will you be in Alexandria?"

"Trade schedule puts me there in two weeks. But, you know, you don't have to go back home tomorrow with Daryl and Carl. You could _stay_ here at Green Acres. There's room."

She looked at the narrow bed and at his big body wedged against the wall. "Really?"

"Well...you can have the top bunk when we're not going at it. Or I could consider moving to Alexandria. _You've_ got a queen-size bed."

Sasha wasn't ready for what he was suggesting. She'd lost two men already, Bob and then Abraham, and she didn't want to risk attaching herself too firmly to a third. They'd had sex for the first time two weeks ago at the big Christmas party in the Kingdom. It had begun with a kiss under the mistletoe and had ended on the teacher's desk in one of the classrooms. But she was still telling herself this relationship was casual. "Tex isn't going to want to lose his best sniper. You never know when some roving gang might show up." She slid out of bed and pulled on her underwear.

"Suit yourself," he said. "But you're really missing out." He waved a hand from head to knee over his naked body.

Sasha chuckled. "Maybe I could stop by Green Acres again next week, though, if I _happen_ to be out scavenging in this direction."

Isaac grinned. A silver tooth that had finally replaced his missing one glinted. "Well I hope you _happen_ to be."

Sasha slid her sweatshirt on over her head.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I have to meet with Tex so we can negotiate for that tanker we brought y'all."

"Well, don't tell him I told you...but that steer finally got big enough to slaughter. Tommy butchered it up the other day. We've got three hundred fifty pounds of meat hanging in the smoke house. A hundred and fifty pounds are already promised in trade to the Kingdom, though."

"Good to know."

[*]

While Sasha met with Tex in his study to haggle over the price of the gas tanker, Daryl followed Isaac into a backroom of the storage cellar. He felt like a kid who had just walked into a candy store. His eyes drifted over an 18th century musket, and then he picked up an FG 42 that looked liked it had been plucked off a World War II battlefield. "These things work?"

"Some do," Isaac answered. "Some don't. But our gunsmith is breaking down the ones that don't for parts."

"Where the hell ya find 'em?"

"Malik and I raided the NRA headquarters in Fairfax. The National Firearms museum is there. The range store had been completely looted, of course, but no one thought to take the museum _exhibits._ "

Daryl picked up another rifle, checked it, leveled it, and then dry fired at the wall.

"You are holding history in your hands, my friend. That's a Remington Model 1865. Breech loading."

"Damn," Daryl muttered.

Isaac looked around at the piles of guns. "Maybe I should have given Sasha one of these instead of that necklace."

[*]

Daryl had thought they would have the venison they'd slain for dinner, but instead they enjoyed juicy, peppery beef sirloin steaks and greens cooked in bacon grease, which they washed down with sweet tea. "Need to visit more often," Daryl said.

Isaac smiled across the dinning room table at Sasha. "Most definitely."

"Don't worry. You'll have steak again this week," Sasha told Daryl. "Tex is sending us home with one hundred pounds of beef."

"Is that what ya got out him?" Daryl asked.

"And thirty gallons of milk."

As the dishes were cleared by the kitchen servants, Tex invited Daryl to check out a "new addition"to the ranch. He led Daryl to one of the barns, leaned against the gray wooden rail of a stall, and pointed to one of his dogs, which lay in the hay with a litter of four puppies sucking from her teats. "Glad for these little guys," Tex said. "Lost my best cattle dog last month. General got in between me and a walker in the woods. Poor boy got bit pretty bad." He pointed to a little black-and-white pup. "That one looks just like him."

Daryl watched the pups jostling for position. "Could use me a huntin' dog."

"Thought you might say that. Junior's mine, but you can have your pick of any one of the other three. I was planning to wean them tomorrow, anyway. They're six weeks now. I'll send you home with one. I mean, assuming the Mrs. doesn't mind."

Daryl wasn't sure if he should say anything about Tex's use of _the Mrs._ He hadn't put a ring on Carol's finger, the way Glenn had once put one on Maggie's and the way Rick, more recently, had put one on Michonne's. He didn't even know if she would _want_ him to. Carol hadn't exactly had a positive first marriage, and Daryl wasn't the best husband material. She hadn't kicked him out of her bed yet, but he wasn't sure she'd want to call herself _Mrs. Dixon_ either. In the end, though, he didn't say anything about Tex's assumption. Instead, he scratched his cheek and asked, "What ya want for the pup?"

"Just want you to deliver something to Maggie for me." Tex pushed back from the wooden rail. "She mentioned wanting a Baby Bjorn the last time I was in Alexandria to trade. Isaac picked one up for me."

"What the fuck's a bee horn? And what the hell does a baby need one for?"

Tex laughed. "It's a baby carrier you wear."

The next morning, they loaded up the beef, the milk, and the baby carrier. Sasha took the wheel of the supply truck. Daryl had to tell Carl to "C'mon!" twice because he was flirting with Hope, who had walked him to the truck to say goodbye. Carl climbed into the back, and Daryl sat on the front passenger's side.

"I'm coming on all your trade trips from now on," Carl announced.

When Sasha started the truck, a small black nose poked its way out of the top of Daryl's leather jacket, and a rough little tongue licked his chin.

"You _sure_ Carol's going to be okay with that?" Sasha asked as she popped the truck into gear and began driving.


	36. Chapter 36

Carol began to stir from her afternoon nap. She'd been up half the night last night helping the doctor to deliver Maggie's baby and then helping Maggie to learn to breast feed it, because Hershel Glenn Rhee was a creature more stubborn than his own mother. He didn't seem to want to latch on. They'd gotten him to eat by sunrise, though, using a few tricks Carol remembered from Sophia's baby days. She'd come home feeling like the hole in her heart, which Sophia had left in her absence, had grown another two sizes, and she'd cried herself to sleep in the empty bed, glad Daryl wasn't home to see her tears.

But now Daryl was home, apparently, because she could feel something wet against her cheek. What was he doing? _Licking_ her awake? He probably wanted sex. Usually he just poked her awake with his hard-on in the morning, like the Casanova he was. She might complain about his style, but she usually had sex with him anyway, because, frankly, it felt good, and apparently a woman's sexual peak was _not_ in her thirties. Right now, though, she wasn't in the mood at all. "Stop!" she hissed and rolled over. She opened her eyes but did not stare into Daryl's blue ones. A small pair of brown eyes looked out at her.

"Yip!"

Startled, Carol sat straight up and almost reached for her handgun on the nightstand before she realized it was just a puppy. An adorable, little brown puppy, squirming in Daryl's hand. "Ya like 'em?" Daryl asked. "Gonna raise 'em up to be a bird dog. Use 'em to hunt pheasant and ducks."

Carol looked at the dog skeptically. "You'll have to feed it."

"Tex gave me lots of puppy chow. There was a shitload in the Sanctuary. He took it all 'cause he was the only one with dogs."

She reached out and scratched the pup behind its ears. "I guess we can always eat it if we run out of food."

Daryl drew the puppy away from her, cuddled it to his chest, and kissed its head. "Shhhh! Don't listen to the mean lady." The puppy licked his face, and Daryl jerked away before setting it down on the bed, where it yipped and scurried from Carol to Daryl and back to Carol, finally choosing to curl itself up against her side. "He likes ya, even if ya want to eat him."

Carol smiled. "Well, I like you even when you want to eat me. _Especially_ when you want to eat me."

"Yeah?"

"Not _now_."

Daryl frowned.

"I'm tired. Maggie had her baby last night."

"Heard when I got in," Daryl said. "Hershel's a weird name for a kid."

"She's going to call him H.G. I think."

"Even weirder."

Carol yawned.

"Goin' back to sleep?"

She nodded. He reached for the puppy. "Leave it!" she commanded, and Daryl backed off slowly.

[*]

Carol walked back and forth before the fireplace holding H.G. lightly in her arms. Maggie had been overwhelmed with visitors the first two weeks after his birth. She'd finally told everyone to _butt out,_ but she never minded when Carol came by. Maggie was learning a lot from the former mother.

Last week, Daryl and Rick had brought over Judith's old crib and set it up at the foot of Maggie's bed for her. Judith was in a toddler bed now, which was working out fine, except for the fact that the little girl went roving in the night. Rick had installed a sturdy gate at the top of the stairs, which Daryl, it was rumored, had tripped over more than once trying to step over it rather than open it.

Since households had been combined to save energy, Maggie was now staying in a four-bedroom house with Sasha, Rosita, and Dianne, the refugee from the Saviors' harem. Dianne was beautiful, but a little off socially. Rosita thought it was because of the horror she went through with the Saviors, but Maggie suspected she'd probably always been like that. "She talks about science-related things constantly and doesn't seem to notice when people get bored," Maggie complained to Carol now.

"Sounds like Eugene."

"She and Eugene should get together, and then she can move in with him and Eric. Why do they get that whole big house to themselves?"

"Because all the construction workers are afraid to live with a gay guy," Carol quipped. All of the houses were full except Eric and Eugene's and the completely empty houses they had shut up for the time being.

The doorbell sounded, and Carol returned the baby to its mother's arms.

"Don't let them in," Maggie pleaded. "No more visitors, please."

"I'll get rid of whoever it is," Carol assured her.

Maggie sighed with relief and popped a fussy H.G. onto her breast to nurse, but Carol _didn't_ get rid of the visitor. She led him into the living room, saying, "Sorry, but this one's come a long way."

Maggie quickly covered up with a blanket while Tex temporarily averted his eyes. He took off his cowboy hat and began fiddling with it before he looked back. "I was here to drop off some pork and get some penicillin, and I thought I'd stop by and see the baby. If you don't want to be bothered. I understand. I'll - "

"No," Maggie said. "Have a seat. Stay."

"I'm going to head over to the green house," Carol told her. "Need to check on my winter tomatoes."

Maggie nodded to her as she left, and Tex swung a backpack off his shoulder and sat down in the arm chair.

He unzipped the pack. "Brought you a few things."

"Thanks for the Baby Bjorn you sent with Daryl. I probably can't use it for a couple more months, but it will definitely come in handy."

"Sure." He pulled out a tiny cowboy hat and set it on the coffee table.

Maggie laughed. "Oh my God. That's adorable."

"Got him the vest, too. It's for six months." He put that on the coffee table.

"Where did you find that?"

"It was in the ranch. I think the original owner's wife was expecting."

"Don't tell me they had tiny chaps, too."

"Alas, no chaps, but…" He pulled out a little pair of cowboy boots.

"No way. Are those _snakeskin_?"

Tex chuckled and sat back in the chair.

H.G. had fallen asleep against her breast, so Maggie pulled him off, rebuttoned her shirt under the blanket, and then tossed it off. She rubbed the baby's little back gently. "How long are you staying for?"

"Just the night. Eric and Eugene are giving me a room in their house."

"Did Isaac and Malik come with you?"

He nodded. "They were also offered a room in Eric's house, but I suspect they'll be staying here? With Sasha and Rosita?"

"I suspect," Maggie agreed. "I'll have to cover H.G.'s innocent little ears tonight."

[*]

Rick blew out smoke from the cigar, looked it over, and said, "This is good. Is it a Cuban?"

Tex tossed a poker chip on the kitchen table, and, around his own cigar, said, "Yep."

"Do you have a humidor?" Rick asked.

"Yep."

"Are you boys really smoking _inside_ the house?" Michonne asked as she walked into the kitchen, jerked open the fridge, and pulled out a Diet Coke.

"Too dam cold outside," Daryl answered. He blew a ring of smoke in her direction and then saw Tex's raise with a chip from his own pile.

"Why are you smoking cigars _at all_ ," Michonne asked, "when you know you can trade them to Gregory at the Hilltop for something _useful?_ "

"It's tradition," Tex insisted. "A baby was born."

"Two weeks ago," Michonne told him, "and none of you are the father."

"We's _all_ the fathers," Daryl told her. "That's a communal baby."

"Well, good," came Carol's voice from the entryway. "Then you can start changing some of his diapers."

Daryl waved her away. "Kitchen belongs to the men. Out."

"Even better," Carol told him. "Then I guess you're cooking dinner tonight, too?"

Daryl raised the glass of whiskey that sat before his pile of chips. "Havin' a liquid dinner tonight."

"Then _we're_ having a girl's night," Michonne said as she joined Carol in the entryway. "I'll round up the others. You hire the Chippendales."

When the women left the kitchen, Daryl asked, "What the hell they talkin' 'bout Disney chipmunks for?"

Rick snorted. A little whiskey came out his nose.

"Not Chip N' Dale," Tex said. " _Chippendales."_

Daryl was no less confused.

"They're male strippers," Rick explained.

"For gay guys or somethin'?" Daryl threw his hand down. "I fold."

"And for women," Tex answered. "I'll see you and raise you five."

Rick called his bet with a chip from his pile.

"Women _like_ that?" Daryl asked.

"They love it when they tear off their costumes," Rick said. "I hear cops are the most popular."

"No, no," Tex insisted. "Cops are only number two. _Cowboys_ are number one."

"Pretty sure cops are more popular than cowboys," Rick said.

"How much do you want to bet on that?"

"Would y'all shut up," Daryl grumbled. "And turn over yer damn cards?"

Tex and Rick turned their hands up on the table, and Tex raked the pile of chips toward himself.

"Daryl," Rick said, "remind me never to pay Texas Hold 'Em with a native Texan."

"I was actually born and raised in California," Tex admitted. "On my parents' boutique vineyard. I didn't move to Texas until I was fourteen, when my father gambled away his fortune. But don't tell anyone that." He dealt another hand.

[*]

Carol had almost fallen asleep when Daryl crawled - literally, on his hands and knees, after tripping over his crossbow on the floor and cursing - into bed. She could tell by the way the mattress shifted. But then he turned and sat. Short sharp grunts rose out of him as he struggled with his boots. One clunked against the floor and the other hit the wall.

Daryl rolled onto his side. "Down at the end of the bed, Merle!" he growled. "That's my woman!" The puppy, which was curled up against Carol's back as she lay facing outward, yipped and scurried down to the bottom of the bed where he settled in at Daryl's feet.

"I think you named him Merle just so you could enjoy ordering him around," Carol said.

Daryl's arm fell heavily over her waist. She could smell the whiskey on his breath as he whispered in her ear, "Wanna fool 'round?"

"I doubt you're in any condition to get it up."

"Take care of ya though." He licked her cheek. When she squirmed away and wiped it, he laughed. "Good night with the girls?" he asked. "Y'all like the strippers?"

"How much did you drink?"

"Who's number one with the ladies? Cowboys or cops? C'mon. Tell me. Got a case of .22 ammo ridin' on it."

"Neither," Carol answered. "It's firemen."

"Damn. Don't know who wins the bet then."

"Sounds like you had a good time."

He kissed her neck. "I'll start yer fire."

Carol chuckled. He was quiet for long enough that she thought he may have passed out. But then he suddenly whispered, in a quick, confidential tone, as though he had some important piece of news to share, "Psst. Hey! Carol."

"What?"

"I love ya."

Daryl didn't say those three little words, at least he hadn't since his big speech at her house outside the Kingdom, when he'd said he loved them all, and her most of all. She _knew_ he loved her, but he wasn't a man to _say_ the words. She was a little stunned. "I love you, too, Daryl."

"Mhmhm. Merle! Quit lickin' my feet." And then he was out.


	37. Chapter 37

Maggie kissed the top of little Hershel Glenn's head as he snuggled against her chest in the Baby Bjorn. Sasha put an extra rifle in the bed of the pick-up while Rosita checked the oil level and Carl loaded in the backpacks.

H.G. Rhee was only four months old, but the roads were fairly safe these days, and this was not the baby's first trip to Green Acres. Maggie always brought him along because she was breast feeding. She was going now because word had been sent (via the ham radio messaging system) that a new colt had just been born and was in dire need of her help. Alexandria would get three coolers full of cow's milk in exchange for her services. Sasha, Rosita, and Carl were going with her in part for romance and in part for safety. Despite the reduced number of threats, no one ever traveled alone – particularly not with a baby. No one, that was, except Daryl, who still could not be convinced to use the buddy system.

Well…he did always take _one_ buddy with him. Now, as he roared through the gates on his motorcycle and puttered to a stop, a brown head emerged from the carrier he kept strapped between himself and the handlebars. Daryl lowered his head and let Merle lick his face before dismounting and freeing the dog. Merle nipped at Daryl's heels as he opened the top box on the back of his bike.

Maggie left the truck door open and walked over. "Find anything good?"

Daryl handed her a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"I'm breastfeeding," she said.

"Ain't for you! For Tex. Headed to Green Acres, right?""

Maggie nodded. "What do you want for it?"

"Nothin'. Owe 'em one better'n that, but that's the best I could do."

"You want to come with us?"

"Nah. Carol."

Maggie accepted the two words as explanation enough. Rick and Michonne were on a trading trip to the Kingdom, Carl was coming with them to Green Acres to see Hope, and Judith could always be pawned off on Father Gabriel. That meant Daryl and Carol would have the _entire_ house to themselves for the weekend. "Y'all have a good time," she smirked.

"A good time doing what?" asked Carl, who had just now walked up beside them.

"Got somethin' for ya to bring yer girl," Daryl told him.

Carl followed him to the top box, and Daryl pulled out an entire one-gallon plastic ziplock bag full of necklaces. "Didn't know what the hell ya meant by that note, so just took a bunch."

"I'll pick something out of it for her," Carl said as he took the bag. "Thanks."

"Maybe y'll get lucky this time," Daryl called after him as he walked back to the truck.

"Jesus, Daryl!" Maggie shook her head.

"What? I ain't his father!"

"You know, this is only Hope's fourth time seeing him."

Rosita sauntered up and held out her hand in a blasé manner. Daryl dug around in the supplies he'd gathered and then put a box of condoms in her open palm.

"Get mine too!" Sasha called from the truck.

Daryl put another box in Rosita's hand.

Rosita shuffled one box behind the other. "Why did you get _me_ the standard and _Sasha_ the large?"

"I just got the only two damn boxes they had left! Y'all can duke it out."

Rosita rolled her eyes. "You're just lucky Carol has her tubes tied. You two could go at it all day long if you wanted." She strutted away.

Merle, hearing Carol's name, barked and began running home.

[*]

Carol made her way home through the grassy back alley behind the house, feeling good about the tight group she'd managed to shoot at the practice range this morning. Afterwards, she'd carefully gathered her spent brass to return to Eugene for reloading. She'd had an early breakfast, and she was hungry for lunch by the time she walked through the kitchen door.

A happy bark let her know Daryl was back from his supply run. She hated that he made those runs alone, but that was something she had resolved not to fight about. Daryl needed his periodic solitude like a car needs gasoline.

Merle ran to her and jumped up on her legs.

"Down, boy!" Daryl ordered, but Carol stooped and demanded a kiss, which the little dog happily gave her before running to the corner, chasing his tail twice, and then settling into his bed of blankets.

Carol strolled over and kissed Daryl's cheek.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said. He'd started calling Carol that a couple of months ago, maybe because he knew she had a hard time thinking of herself that way. Daryl wasn't the type to drop compliments about a woman's hair or dress or eyes, so he probably figured if he just made that her nickname, he'd remember to say it. He said it often enough that she'd begun to believe it. "Look." He pointed to the kitchen table.

Carol blinked. Daryl had _set_ it. With plates and napkins and serving bowls and silverware even. And there were flutes before the two place settings. Flutes with some kind of light yellowy-orange liquid in them.

"What's all this?" she asked suspiciously.

"Lunch. Last week you was bitchin' I ain't never tried to be romantic."

"Don't use that word in context with me," she said seriously.

"Sorry. Bad word choice. Ya was _expressin'_ yer _disappointment_."

Carol chuckled. "I _wasn't_ , actually. I was just commenting that I thought it was romantic of Carl to be writing those poems for Hope. It wasn't directed at _you._ "

"Mhmhm. So ya want me to put all this shit back?"

"No!" Carol insisted. She sat down at the table and noticed the food in the serving bowls – fruit cocktail from a can, Vienna sausages – also from a can, of course - and a small bowl of cashews. It was a strange lunch combination, but she _did_ love cashews. She was a little surprised he remembered her saying that, and she wondered where he'd found them.

Daryl sat down across from her. "Well I ain't no poet. So this is what ya get."

"I appreciate the thought. And the effort. And the cashews, especially." She dumped half of the little bowl on her plate. She popped one in her mouth, savored it, and swallowed. "And what's in here?" She lifted the flute of strangely colored liquid.

"Mow-mows. Said ya used to like mow-mows in the old world."

Did he mean a mimosa? Had he actually attempted to make one? Carol took a small sip. It tasted like he'd used half an ounce of Sunny Delight mixed with four ounces of cheap white wine. It tasted _hideous_. "Mhmmm," she murmured. "Thank you."

"Like it?"

He looked so eager that she took another big sip and smiled. "Mhmhm," she said. "I like it so much I think I'm already buzzed. I don't know if I can handle anymore."

"Ya don't _look_ buzzed."

"I am," Carol set down the flute. "I'm _so_ buzzed, I just want to go upstairs _right now_ and have raw, hungry sex."

Daryl's mouth fell open.

Carol stood. "Are you coming?"

"Damn!" he muttered as he rose to follow her. "If I'd of known mow-mows did _that,_ I'd of made 'em for ya _long_ ago."

[*]

Cool, clean water flowed from the outdoor pump, and Maggie washed her hands beneath it. At the moment, little H.G. was with the ranch manager and his wife, Rose, who was ecstatic to get her baby fix.

Tex handed her a towel.

"That was hardly a dire situation," she told him as she dried her hands. "You could have handled that colt perfectly well on your own."

"Well, I thought Isaac might want an excuse to see Sasha, and I knew she'd come if you came."

"What does he need an excuse for anymore? They're pretty clearly a couple now."

"I meant Malik," Tex said. "To see Rosita."

"Malik never needs an excuse for anything."

"You're probably right," Tex agreed. "Sorry if I inconvenienced you."

"It's never an inconvenience," Maggie assured him. "I like visiting the ranch. I read that being around animals might help prevent H.G. from developing allergies. And we need to trade anyway."

"Well, let's save that business for the morning," Tex said. "Y'all are my guests for the rest of the evening. Let me walk you to your room, and then you can get changed for dinner."

"You don't think I should show up covered in mud and shit?" Maggie asked with a smile.

"Probably shouldn't feed the baby in it, anyway."

Tex led her to his study, which he always gave up to her when she was visiting. He pointed to the hall bathroom on the way. "Got a new massage shower head in there."

"Sounds lovely." With Rose watching the baby, Maggie could take her time in the shower.

Once inside the study, Tex said, "Watch this." He walked over to the wall, clicked something on the bookcase, and swung it outward. He then grabbed hold of a handle and pulled down a wall bed. It was already made. "Clean sheets. Sure beats the couch or a sleeping bag." He pointed to a crib to the side of his oak desk. "Daryl and I built that last time he was here."

"You didn't have to do that for the few times I visit."

Tex shrugged. "The ranch is going to need one eventually. Someone's bound to get pregnant sooner or later."

"Thank you for giving up your room for me. Again."

"Not an issue." Tex tipped his hat to her and then left her to herself.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N:** _This story is finally coasting to its conclusion. There will be one last chapter after this one. Hope you enjoy._

[*]

"This bed is seriously tight," Sasha told Isaac as she curled up with him, her head on his bare chest. "Why don't you just scavenge a bigger one?"

"Because I only share it twice a month."

They saw each other once every seven to ten days, but not always at Green Acres. "Glad to know you don't share it in between," she quipped.

"Are you?" His arm was raised over his head as he toyed with the coils in the empty frame of the upper bunk. "Would you care if I did?"

"Of course I'd care." She raised her head. "Wait. Do you _want_ to? Is there someone else?" Sasha knew Green Acres was growing, that they kept taking in refugees Isaac or Malik discovered when they were out scavenging. Most of the dorm rooms had two or three people now. She didn't know how many single women they'd taken in.

"No, Sasha, there isn't. But there could be."

"What the hell does that mean?"

He sighed, lowered his arm, and draped it over her waist. "It means I want more than this. Preferably with you. But if not with you, then with someone else. I want more than sex a few times a month. I want a woman who's _my_ woman. Who's _around_. Who's lives in the same community as me. Who sleeps in the same bed as me."

"Oh."

"You want to be that woman?"

Sasha's fingertips skated across the sinews of his left arm and over his Marine tattoo. "I'll think about it," she promised.

[*]

Maggie cleaned up in the bathroom and returned to the study to change. With a towel still wrapped around her wet hair, she sat down in Tex's desk chair and examined the piece of paper on which Rick had written all the things he wanted in trade. She opened a drawer to search for a pen to cross something off the list that the Hilltop had already brought them yesterday.

Tex's little spiral notebook was resting on top of the pens, so she moved it onto the desktop. After she pulled out a pen, her eyes were drawn back to the spiral notebook. Maggie knew she shouldn't. She knew it was nosy and wrong, and she'd already crossed him by reading it once, all those months ago. In the end, she just couldn't help herself.

The pages rustled. Maggie skimmed the notes, which mostly contained boring lists of potential trades, ratings of the various ranch skills of his people, inventories of supplies, and so forth. But then she spied a page that was headed, simply: MAGGIE.

She should shut the notebook right now.

She really should.

But she didn't. She was curious if he had changed his rating of her negotiation skills, or if he had added anymore skills to the list. So she continued reading his notes:

 _Hershel Glenn (H.G.) Rhee (?) Greene (?), 6 lb, 9 oz 19" dark brown hair, brown eyes_

Then, in red ink, as if written on a different day:

 _Maggie's favorite color – green_

 _2nd_ _favorite color - red_

She flipped a page. In black ink:

 _Maggie's favorite flower – carnation_

 _Fav. music – "old school" country_

Then there were two numbers lined up, _38_ over _27_ , with a minus sign, and the answer of _11_. It took her a minute to realize that was the difference between their ages.

The next page read:

 _Had a sister named Beth_

 _Would love cute sailor suit for H.G._

 _Favorite dessert – peach cobbler_

A knock on the door sent Maggie scurrying. She closed the notebook, put it back in the drawer, and tried to arrange it atop the pens just as it was before slamming the drawer shut.

"You ready yet?" came Tex's by now familiar drawl. "Rose said H.G.'s getting hungry and dinner'll be on soon."

"Be right there!" Maggie called.

As the sound of his boot steps disappeared down the hallway, she realized that the person who had been looking for an excuse to see a particular woman was not Issac or Malik, but Tex himself.

Maggie sat staring silently at the dark oak desktop and tried to figure out just how she felt about that.

[*]

The "raw, hungry sex" had turned out to be less raw than Carol had implied. Daryl didn't mind. He never forgot that Carol had been in an abusive marriage. The first round was more playful than raw and more quick than hungry. The second round was slow, serious, and tender. Then they'd both fallen asleep for a few hours. Daryl awoke to the feel of her fingers gently caressing his stubble. "We're going to have to get out of this bed at some point and eat some dinner," she said. "We didn't even have lunch."

Daryl knew there was something else he had planned to do today, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was anymore. "How 'bout I bring ya up a mow-mow? Dinner in bed?"

"They're called mimosas," she told him. "And that's not at all how you make them. But I _did_ appreciate the thought." She kissed his forehead. "Let's order a pizza. Extra cheese. Canadian bacon."

" _Canadian_ bacon! What the hell's wrong with ya, woman?"

Carol chuckled.

"Gotta get some _real_ American bacon on there," he said. "And pepperoni. And sausage. And them little..." He moved his fingertips against her bare back, like he was sprinkling something on a pizza. "Them pepper thingies. Ya know?"

"Banana peppers?"

"Damn. Ya know what everythin's called."

She slid out of bed and began to dress. "Except me."

"What?" he asked. She sounded...disappointed. And that couldn't be good. But he wan't sure what he'd done or said wrong. He sat up. "Yer called Carol."

"And Beautiful," she said.

He smiled. "Yeah." Daryl threw off the blanket, stood, and began pulling on his boxers.

Now in a t-shirt and underwear, she sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on his hip. "But what do you call me to other people? You know...when you talk about me?"

"Carol."

She sighed. Then she patted his bare stomach. "Let's go eat."

Something was wrong, but he didn't know what the hell it was. Daryl had never been in a long-term relationship before. It made his heart drop into his gut, when he knew there was something he didn't know. "Nah. No," he said, his uncertainty and fear masked with anger. "Don't pull that shit. The games. I ain't got the patience for that. Just tell me what's eatin' ya."

"Fine." Carol put her hands flat down by her sides. "Last time Tex was in Alexandria, he asked me how my husband was, and I didn't know how to respond to that."

What did that mean? Was she irritated that Tex thought of them as married? "Asked me somethin' like that, too. If my wife was in the greenhouse."

"And what did you say?" Carol asked.

"I said..." What did she _want_ him to have said? He settled on telling her the truth: "I said, yeah, Carol's in the greenhouse."

"You said _yes?_ When he asked if your _wife_ was in the greenhouse?"

"Well, what the hell else _should_ I have said? You was in the greenhouse."

To his relief, she smiled. "Well, then. I guess it's _official_. I'm your wife." She stood up, kissed his cheek, and walked around him to grab her discarded pants.

He turned and watched her dress. "Ya want I should get ya a ring?" he asked.

"Honestly? I'd rather have a new scope for my rifle."

Daryl chuffed, the short laugh rumbling in his chest. He drew her back against his chest, kissed her neck, and murmured, "Whatever ya want, Mrs. Dixon."

[*]

After feeding H.G. and putting him down for his first four- to five-hour sleep of the night, Maggie took the receiving end of the baby monitor and went to the dining room, where Sasha and Issac were seated on one side of the table. Tex was at the head. On the other side were Malik and Rosita.

Maggie took the only remaining chair, opposite Tex, and apologized for being late. From the adjoined kitchen, she could hear the laughter of another group of diners. She recognized Hope and Carl among them. A plate full of food already sat at her seat, and it looked like everyone had finally given up waiting for her and started eating.

If Maggie hadn't been reading those notes, she might not have immediately noticed that the tablecloth was green, or that three red carnations sat in a vase in the center of the table.

"I hope you like what we're having for dessert tonight," Tex told her. "We had a bumper fruit crop last summer. Froze a bunch. Chef makes a fantastic peach cobbler."


	39. Chapter 39

After dessert, Isaac put down his fork and cleared his throat. "Tex, I need to tell you something."

"What's that?"

"Sasha and I were talking just before dinner..."

"And?" Tex asked.

Isaac glanced at Sasha, who nodded. "I'm moving to Alexandria with her."

Tex sighed.

"You don't really need me that badly," Isaac assured him.

"You're my right-hand man."

"I was when we were under threat, but we've been at peace for awhile now. Dawson's been your right hand man for months. He's your ranch manager. I'm just a soldier."

"You aren't _just_ a solider, Isaac. I've always leaned on your advice, you _know_ that."

"And you still can. We've got a messaging system now. And if there's ever war again, you know I'm your man. You'll come to Alexandria to trade. I'll come here. This isn't goodbye."

"I'd like to try to convince you to stay…" Tex glanced at Sasha. "But I'm guessing it's futile." He turned his attention to Malik. "You aren't moving too, are you?"

"No I am not," Malik said. "The food is superior at Green Acres. Supplies are more plentiful. If _anyone_ is moving, it should be _to_ Green Acres, not _away_ from it."

Rosita emitted that half-disgusted laugh she had perfected. "No one's moving."

"Well," Tex raised his cup of decaf coffee, "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder." He sipped.

"They also say out of sight out of mind," Isaac warned Malik. Then he smiled at Sasha. "And I don't like being out of mind."

Sasha smiled back.

Once the plates were cleared, and everyone stood from the table, Tex asked if Maggie wanted to go for a ride. "Sunset's gorgeous at the very edge of the ranch. Won't take us long to get out there on horseback. You can use my mare."

Sasha and Isaac volunteered to stay in the main house and keep an ear on H.G. in case he woke up, so Maggie agreed. She hadn't ridden a horse in a long time, and she missed it – the sleek beauty of the animal, the feeling of natural speed and power. She raced Tex from the stables across acres and acres of fields and beat him to the hitching post by a nose. Tex dismounted his stallion gracefully and rubbed the white stripe between its eyes affectionately. "Black Beauty's got a short nose is all," he said.

Maggie laughed and slid off her horse. "And I'm not even in shape. I just had a baby four months ago."

"Wouldn't know it to look at you."

That comment took on more meaning that it would have the last time she'd seen Tex.

They tied up the horses and he led her up several stairs onto a wooden platform.

"What's this for?" she asked. It looked like a stage.

"This is the altar for an outdoor sanctuary," Tex said. He turned and pointed, and that was when she saw the wooden pews on the other side.

"You planning to sacrifice me?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Just thought we'd sit here and watch the sun go down and the stars come out. Good view." He dropped his satchel, pulled out a blanket that was rolled up atop it, and spread it out. Tex sat down cross-legged, and Maggie sat beside him. "Want some wine?" he unbuckled the satchel and drew out two wine glasses, which he set on the stage, and then a bottle of wine.

At this point, even if she _hadn't_ poked around his notebook, Maggie probably would have begun to suspect something. "I can't. I'm breastfeeding."

"Oh. That's right. I'm an idiot." His shoulders fell. He turned the bottle in his hands. "When Cash was a baby, Tammy used to pump and dump when she wanted a drink. But I guess that's too wasteful in these scarce times."

"You know, I just fed H.G. before dinner. He isn't going to need to eat for another three hours. I can have one little glass. It'll be fine."

Tex's face brightened and he pulled out a swiss army knife and began working out the cork.

When he handed Maggie a glass, she took a very small sip and savored it. "You probably shouldn't waste this on me. It's really good. I bet you could get a lot in trade for this from Gregory."

"Gregory doesn't deserve my good wine." He took a sip from his glass. "When I finish this bottle, I'll re-fill it with cheap, bathtub-fermented cherry wine, re-cork it, and trade it to him."

Maggie was sipping when he said that, and she sputtered out some of her wine. She mumbled an apology as she wiped the edge of her lips with her fingertips. "Do you _really_ do that?"

"He doesn't drink any of it right away. He's a collecting snob. He just puts it in a cellar. When he finally does open it two or three years from now…well, I'm hoping Jesus will _finally_ be the head of the Hilltop by then. And if I need to make amends at that point, I will, but with something other than wine."

Maggie laughed.

Tex smiled. He put a hand down flat on the blanket very near her hip and leaned forward a little, but when she didn't meet him halfway, he leaned back. It was awkward, and Maggie felt weirdly nervous. She wasn't accustomed to feeling that way around men. She'd always been the aggressor, the instigator, but in this case, she didn't quite know what she wanted.

Maggie had first offered Glenn sex because she felt a little sorry for him, because it was the apocalypse, and because there weren't a lot of options for release. And yet Glenn had turned out to be the love of her life. Of course, if Glenn _hadn't_ turned out to be the love of her life, Maggie might have broken the poor man's heart, but she hadn't thought about that at the time. She'd been a more selfish person back then. She wasn't that way now. Glenn's love had changed her. She didn't want to hurt Tex. Maggie respected him, and she thought he was good-looking, but she didn't know if she could ever really move on from Glenn.

"Is this supposed to be a date?" she asked directly.

"I…uh…." Tex lowered his hat to hide his eyes.

Maggie pulled the hat off of his head and put it down beside herself. "You like me," she said.

He ran a hand through his disarrayed hair. "You're very blunt."

"That's the part of me you _don't_ like."

"I don't know about that. I might like that part, too." He looked down at the wood planks but then looked back up at her. "Yes, I like you, Maggie. And I'd like to get to know you more intimately."

She raised an eyebrow.

He held up a hand. "I don't mean sex. Not that I would be at all opposed to that. I just mean I'm not angling for it. At the moment. Yet."

She chuckled. He reached for his hat and she put a hand over it to prevent him from grabbing it back.

"May I have my hat?"

"You're pretty shy for a cowboy."

"I'm not when I have my hat."

"Is it likes Samson's hair? The source of your strength? "

"Yes." He jerked the hat out from under her hand and pressed it back on his head. Once it was on, he leaned in and kissed her.

The pleasant pressure of his warm lips took her by surprise, and she found herself responding more intensely than she would have expected. Startled by her own response, Maggie pulled away.

"Sorry," Tex said. "I haven't done this in a long time. Was that not welcome?"

"It wasn't unwelcome."

"Hmmm." Tex took a very big, very long sip of his wine.

"I have to be honest with you."

"I'm too old to interest you. Is that it?"

"God, no! Eleven years is no big deal between adults. And you're very...fit."

He smiled over his glass. The rays of the setting sun danced spectacularly across its surface.

"You're an honorable man, too. What you've done here…for so many people…" She looked around the ranch and shook her head. "You're competent. Capable. Kind. Handsome."

"I'm sensing an impending _BUT…_ "

"But…I'm not sure I'm ready to move on. What Glenn and I had…it was so special. And H.G. has his daddy's eyes, and his smile. He reminds me of Glenn. Every day."

"There are a dozen things that remind me of Tammy. Every day. But she's dead. And I'm not. I'm not looking to be your replacement Glenn, Maggie. I know there is _no_ replacement Glenn. There never can be. There never will be. And no one will ever replace Tammy…but….maybe you and I… Maybe we can have _something_. Something _else_. Something _good_."

"But when you think about moving on from Tammy, don't you feel…I mean, don't you feel…"

"Like I'm betraying her?"

"Yes!"

"No. I don't. Not even a little bit."

"Really?" Maggie asked.

"Tammy's dead, and I can't imagine she would have wanted me to mourn her for the rest of my life. You're _twenty-seven_. There's no way Glenn would have wanted that for you. He sounds like he was a selfless man."

"He was." She sniffled and nodded. "He really was."

Tex smiled a little sadly. "I can be surprisingly patient when I _have_ to be. We can take it as slowly as you want. But the possibility would be nice. Some hope would be nice. "

Maggie took one more sip of her wine and then licked a bit off her lips. "Then let me test your patience." She leaned over and teased him with a kiss that had the faintest hint of tongue.

Tex was smiling when she pulled away.

She turned her face from his and looked out at the disappearing sun. "It really is beautiful."

"It is, isn't?"

Maggie rested her head on his shoulder and watched the last of the ricocheting rays fade below the horizon.

Tex wrapped an arm around her. "And you know what one of the most wonderful things about the sunset is?"

"What's that?"

"It's always followed by a sunrise."

 **THE END**

 **A/N:** _Thank you for joining me on this journey and to all who took the time to comment. Reviews are appreciated! If you enjoyed this piece, you might want to try the one I am currently working on, "Home Was a Dream." (Like this story, it's a Daryl-centric piece with an ensemble cast). Or, if you've never read it, my first ever TWD fanfic, "Playing House," which, like this story, takes place in a world where the Saviors are defeated. It's also Daryl-centric with an ensemble cast and some OCs._


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N:** _I thought I was done, but then this epilogue hit me._

 **EPILOGUE**

"Don't chew on that!" Maggie plucked H.G. away from the trailer hitch on which he was slobbering. "Dirty!" He'd crawled through the dirt and dragged himself up by the bumper while she was loading the bed.

Rosita was waiting for her on the driver's side, with the window rolled down, because it was eighty-five degrees. Maggie worked the squirming baby into his five-point harness in the backseat, and Carl slid in next to him. "Ready for a ride, Hershey?" Carl asked.

H.G. blew a raspberry in Carl's direction and then giggled.

Maggie shut the door and was about to make her way around to the passenger's side when Daryl roared in through the gates of Alexandria on his motorcycle, navigating with one hand, and holding something in the crook of his arm. His backpack was stuffed full, and he had tied a large cardboard box to the topbox of his motorcycle. His was supposed to have been a quick scavenging trip to a small strip mall that had probably already been well looted. Carol had told Maggie she suspected Daryl had just wanted an excuse to get _out_.

Maggie walked over to him as he dismounted. A sudden movement drew her eyes to the bundle in his arms. "You better not have brought Carol another puppy," she said. "She loves Merle, but I don't think she wants to deal with another dog."

"Ain't a puppy."

Maggie peered into the bundle, and a tiny black fist popped out of it. She gasped. "You brought Carol a baby?"

"She'll like 'em," Daryl insisted. "Cain't have one of 'er own." Daryl smiled at the tiny human creature in his arms. "Cute little bugger. I named 'em Harley."

"What happened to the parents?" Maggie asked. "Do you know? Isn't he hungry?"

"Just fed 'em 'fore I got on the bike." He turned slightly so she could see the bottle of formula sticking out of the side pocket of his backpack. "Found 'em in the CVS. Think, best I could tell, his mama died somewheres. His daddy took 'em into the CVS to try 'n feed 'em, but got attacked by walkers. Saw three dead ones on the floor. Daddy was bit bad, but managed to make a bottle, fed the baby, put it in a shoppin' cart, and then he shot himself 'fore he could turn and kill it."

"How awful," Maggie muttered. "Guess he hoped someone would find it."

"Someone did," Daryl said. "He was hungry when I got there. Cryin' real hard. Walkers was banging 'ginst the front door to try 'n get at 'em. Had to kill six."

"Well, I might be able to feed it. Like a wet nurse. If he'll take my breast. But I was headed to Green Acres. Do you have enough formula? Should I stay?"

Daryl nodded to his bike. "Got a shitload of formula. Diapers too. Baby section weren't touched in there a'tall. Gonna go back for more in the mornin'. Think he'll be a'right."

"I almost want to stick around to see Carol's reaction." She shook her head as she joined Carl, Rosita, and her baby boy in the truck.

"What did he have?" Rosita asked as they drove off through the gate.

"A baby."

She turned and peered at Maggie. "A baby _what_?"

"A baby _human_."

[*]

The house was empty when Daryl got in. He dropped his pack in the kitchen. Harley was awake and crying now. Daryl had learned how often babies ate with Judith, so he didn't think the little tyke was hungry. He held it up and sniffed its diaper. That seemed fine. So he fished out a pacifier he'd found at CVS, ripped open the packaging with his teeth, and then shoved the thing in Harley's mouth.

That seemed to do the trick. The little guy stopped crying, looked up at Daryl with his big brown eyes, and began to suck. A few second later, the screen door that led from the kitchen to the porch opened with a creek.

Daryl turned. "Hey, beautiful." And she _was_ beautiful. Summer had come, and she was wearing a floral dress that accentuated all the things he liked about her. She was rarely impractical, but about once a month, she liked to get girly. Daryl liked it, too. The flowers in her hand suggested she'd just been working in the back yard. "Brought ya somethin'."

Carol looked at the bundle in his arms and dropped the flowers to the countertop. She blinked like she had something stuck in her eye. "Is that…is that a _baby_?"

"Ya said ya wished Ed hadn't a made ya do that thing. With the tubes."

She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand. Through her fingers, she muttered "What? Where….?"

"I named 'em Harley."

Carol dropped her hand to her side and walked forward to peer at the baby in his arms. "We're _not_ calling him Harley." She laughed again and then put a hand on the back of Daryl's neck and kissed him. Both were leaned over the baby when Harley opened his mouth and let slide the pacifier. He turned and began rooting at Carol's breast. Carol broke the kiss and looked down at the baby, with its nose on her nipple.

"See," Daryl said. "Ain't just me. It's inborn."

[*]

Malik greeted the Alexandrian envoy when they arrived at Green Acres. Tex was in the training ring breaking a wild horse he'd found outside the ranch, so Malik showed Maggie to the study. The bed had already been pulled down and was neatly made up for her, and a new stuffed animal lay in H.G.'s crib – a horse this time. There was a new one every time she came to visit. She had no idea where Tex collected them, but they all sat on one of the shelves of the bookcases now, leaned against the leather spines of the classics.

Maggie dropped her bag on the arm chair. Carl and Hope had taken H.G. to see the baby pigs. She was thinking of going to join them, but then she spied one of Tex's notebooks, right smack dab on top of his sturdy, oak desk.

She strolled over and flipped it open. The first page was a morbid list of the death dates of community members along with the causes of death. Tex's wife Tammy and son Cash were among them, as were the casualties of the War with the Saviors, and the recent victim of a farming accident. Another death said merely "naturally causes," and Maggie calculated the woman's age to be eighty-nine.

The next page inventoried the feed supplies for the animals. She flipped past it to discover a mostly blank page, covered by only two lines of Tex's neat cursive:

 _Hi, Maggie. You're nosy, but you sure are pretty. I guess I can forgive you. – Tex_

She laughed and shut the notebook. When she looked up, Tex was leaning against the frame of the open doorway. His cowboy boots were caked in mud, his jeans were browned with it, and the blonde curls that spilled out from beneath his cowboy hat were matted to his forehead with sweat. "Afternoon," he drawled.

[*]

Daryl looked at the empty fireplace over the top of the dirty big toe of his right foot. Six months ago, Carol had finally stopped asking him not to put his grungy feet up on the coffee table. Now she just put up her less grungy feet right beside his. This afternoon, her toenails were red. She did that now, because there was time for things like that. Sometimes she asked him if he liked it. Daryl couldn't give half a shit what color her toenails were, but anytime she asked him something like that, he just said, "Ya look real nice," because he'd learned that response earned him one of her smiles, and he collected those smiles like rare stamps.

But today she didn't ask him if he liked it. She was too busy feeding the baby its bottle, burping it, and then counting each of its little fingers and toes not once, not twice, but three times, as if to make sure they were really all there.

When they baby fell asleep between her breasts, Carol rested her head on Daryl's shoulder. He dropped his arm down from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her.

"So I _can_ keep him?" Carol asked.

"CVS don't take returns without a receipt. Looks like y'll have to."

"Is this what _you_ want, though?" Carol nodded to the sleeping baby. "I mean…do you want to be a daddy? Harley could be a communal baby if you want." Carol had quickly given up trying to fight the name. Daryl had called him Harley so many times throughout the afternoon, that it seemed to have stuck.

He kissed the top of her head. "Don't ya dare tell no one, but I kind of like babies."

She chuckled. "I know. You were great with Judith. But we'll have him when he's not a baby anymore, too. Is that okay with you?"

"Reckon that'd be a'right. Teach 'em to shoot. Hunt. Ride motorcycles. Charm the ladies."

Carol snorted. "He might need an outside tutor for that last one."

"Don't see why. Got me the prettiest girl in four counties. She even lets me put my dirty feet up on the table."

Carol rewarded him with a kiss on his cheek. "You realize, with a baby, we're going to have less time for sex."

Daryl took his arm off her shoulders and made as if to stand from the couch. "Gonna go find that return receipt."

"Stop!"

He sat back down and smiled. "Guess we oughtta aim for quality over quantity then."

Carol looked down at the sleeping infant in her arms. "You want to lay Harley down and aim for some quality right now?" The entire Grimes family was out and about, with Carl at Green Acres and the other three who knew where, and Carol and Daryl had the house they shared with them to themselves.

Daryl nodded, and Carol rose cautiously with the baby. Once Harley was settled asleep in a desk drawer Daryl had lain safely on the ground, he tossed Carol playfully on the bed and began unbuckling his belt. "Babies don't sleep long," he said. "Think this is gonna have to be a quality quicky. Hard and fast from behind. So get on yer knees, girl."

"Sometimes I miss the days when you were shy." She slid to the edge of the bed and rested a hand on his hip. "You're taking your time, Romeo. Harley should be down for at least an hour." She inched up his t-shirt and kissed his bare stomach just above his pants. "But I might get on my knees for you toward the end. If you're a very…very…good boy."

[*]

"That horse give you trouble?" Maggie asked.

"She's twice as stubborn as you are," answered Tex with an affectionate smirk.

Maggie chuckled, walked over, and brushed her lips against his. He smelled like earth and sweat and rope and tasted like sweet, cinnamon apples, and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him more intensely. He broke the kiss to trail his lips along her jaw line to her ear, where he whispered. "You're gonna get dirty, young lady."

"Maybe I want to."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Why don't you come inside and shut the door? Carl's got H.G. for awhile."

He smiled. "You sure?"

She'd kept the relationship mild for months. They'd seen each other about once every ten days, either in Alexandria or Green Acres, and they'd talked and cuddled and kissed plenty, but they hadn't had sex. He'd been patient about it, never pressuring her, but she could tell how disappointed he was every time she put on the brakes. He had to be weary of waiting. Yet Maggie was afraid of what it would be like, the first time in this intense world with someone other than Glenn. She was afraid she might cry. But at the moment, she was horny as hell. It seemed like as good a time as any to take the plunge

Maggie grabbed him by his big silver belt buckle and dragged him inside. She let go and went to sit down on the bed, where she crossed her legs and tried to look casual, even though an excited knot was tying itself up in her stomach. Tex closed and locked the door, turned to her with an admiring gaze, and prowled closer.

The sex was so different from the last comfortably satisfying time with Glenn: not two familiar lovers coming together with ease, but two new ones testing the waters of passion through trial and error, learning each other's bodies for the first time. Tex was a commanding yet considerate lover. When she came the second time, almost at the same moment as he did, she cried out an _Oh, God!_ and dug her fingernails into his back. But afterwards, she _did_ cry.

Maggie tried to hide it from him by rolling away on her side in the bed, but she couldn't. Tex wrapped an arm around her, pulled her back against his chest, and held her through it. When her tears were spent, she murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for."

"I _did_ like it."

"I reckoned you weren't moaning over the pattern in the sheets."

She laughed and turned to face him with her head rested on his muscular arm and her hand pressed against his chest, over his heart. She lifted her eyes hesitantly and found that his own were slightly damp. Maggie kissed his bare shoulder. "God broke the mold after he made you."

"You think so?" he asked.

"I do."

He rubbed the back of her neck in a light massage before winding her hair around one of his fingers. "Then move to Green Acres. Be my wife. Let me be a stepfather to H.G."

"Tex…I…." She squirmed in closer, her bare breasts pressing against him. "I don't understand why it's so easy for you to jump back into it. You were married almost twenty years, and you had a _good_ marriage."

"That's _why_ it's easy." His hand slid out of her hair and down to the small of her back. "Tammy and I were married a long time. We wounded each other. We forgave each other. We fell apart and we pulled together again. And all the work was worth it, because it _was_ a good marriage. I want that again."

"I'm not Tammy."

His fingertips trailed over her naked hip. "You're romantic. You imagine there's such a thing as _the one_. You thought Glenn was it and no one else ever can be. But there is no single _one_. You pick someone, and you build a life together. And your lives intertwine, so deeply, you're not sure where the other one begins or ends. And, in time, you _become_ one." He kissed her forehead. "I'd like to do that with you, Maggie."

"Give me a little time," she said. "Ask me again in two months, and I promise I'll give you a solid answer."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And get down on one knee when you do it."

His chest rumbled beneath her hand as he laughed.

[*]

After sex, it always took Daryl longer to catch his breath than Carol, which never made any damn sense to him at all. He could outrun her, after all.

She kissed a light scar on his bare left shoulder. He didn't know why she loved that spot, but she did. Hell, he didn't know why she loved _him_. But she did.

In his makeshift crib, Harley began to stir and cry.

"Mrs. Dixon," Daryl said. "Think our son wants ya."

 **THE END**


End file.
